


Twin Skeletons

by lynseas



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Angst, Apocalypse, Awkward Sex, Blood, Blow Jobs, Bottom Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Death, Evil Carla Jaeger, First Time, Foreplay, Ghoul!Eren, Ghoul/Zombie Attack on Titan AU, Jean is and will always be Horseface, Kink, M/M, Multi, Older Eren Yeager, Rape, Really both of them like fucking each other in the ass, Rutting, Slowish build, Smut, Submissive Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Supernatural Elements, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, Top Eren Yeager, Top Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Tragedy, Zombies, lots of that probably, yes ... evil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:12:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3293315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynseas/pseuds/lynseas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since the collapse of modern society in the 21st century, most of history has been lost, leaving humanity unknowing of who they were or where they came from. Levi Ackerman, a high ranking official within the Survey Corps, is a member of an elite squad whose job is to find vast expanses of viable land in hopes of human expansion and vitality. Already numerous provinces built apart from The Walls, traveling between the countries is strictly regulated--save from trade and Collectors--due to the strange creatures that lurk outside. So when a mysterious attack is exacted upon the Southern Kyoto Gate of Ganshia, Levi grows weary of the silence that follows. Aberrant, the cause for humanity's plight lingers; they never tire, they never sleep, they never stop ... and they're always hungry. Worst of all? They're the least to fear, and humanity doesn't know it yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost World Pt 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This is my first fic in the AOT universe and I am nervously excited to bring this work to you. I hope it is successful at being an enjoyable adventure for those of you who take the time to read it. It is a sort of zombie au, but with a mixture of ghoul lore as well. I find these two creatures to be incredibly similar, while their differences seem to apply in that one is unaware of their actions and driven by instinct, with seemingly no intelligence; while ghouls are aware of who they are and cognizant of the acts they are committing. Whether they are evil or not is also a debate I thought extremely compelling. In this story, ghouls act as sort of the next step in the evolutionary scale from their zombie counterpart. It will turn into a darker fic, and this is a fic centralized on the perspectives of Levi Ackerman and Eren Jaeger--I would like to add more if it is fitting to the story, but nonetheless, the former still apples. If their relationship doesn't rock your boat, I wouldn't venture too far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Blah, of course I was stupid enough to post my first draft. Forgive me. All fixed now. >>>

_The last thing Eren Jaeger saw was his hand as he reached desperately for his sister._

-

**563 years after The Fall**

Levi leaned against the wall, feeling the heat emanate from the surface as if it was trying to warp the cloth of his navy blue Survey jacket; the burn ebbing deeper through until it touched his pale skin underneath.

“It is so hot this time of year,” he mumbled to himself. Taking the handkerchief he kept in his left breast pocket, he dabbed at his sweat-soaked forehead, knowing the sun was still hours from setting behind the mountains of Ganshia.

“Look on the bright side, Captain!” It was almost habitual to respire at even the thought of Hange’s voice cracking his eardrums. The woman was brilliant; he had no trouble admitting to that fact. Her knowledge and curiosity was only topped by the passion she bled into her work, and she was long past essential to the Corps’—and humanity’s—cause. If they ever wanted back on their feet, to get ahead of the stench of war and decay that laid outside the walls, more people needed to embody the mission this woman openly declared key to their survival. “We have three weeks here per Erwin’s instruction. Which means we won’t have to be inside the inner walls.”

“You mean we won’t have to smell the shit and garbage of Sina, eh?” His nose burned at just the thought of it. He didn’t enjoy the interior, hated the fucker’s that lived there who praised a crazed religious cult more than the people who protected them from getting their flesh torn apart and their insides gutted. Ganshia was the largest of all outlier districts, with a multitude of resources existing in the expansive enclosure. It was a beautiful space; rich in soil that was perfect for farming and animals, lakes and rivers abundant in fish only to be surrounded by woods and wildlife on all sides … a remarkable countryside Levi hadn’t seen rivaled by anything other than by what was outside. Yet, despite such natural richness, the scattered villages of the outermost dwelling were far and few between, little people taking advantage of the overwhelmingly positive factors. Ganshia’s scarce industrialization had left the stillness typical of its countryside vulnerable. The long strands of silence were violated, marked, and perverted by the slow build of the sounds that cut through the walls. The incessant drag of gravel or the pull of grass from their feet, shuffling in a strange, rhythmic pace as the ragged interval of animalistic moans scratched their throats in a guttural type force, leaving their decaying, grey mouths as they searched for the smell they thirsted for. It chipped at the stone exterior, day-by-day weakening the resolve of its people and its fortitude. Levi understood it as an ever-present reminder that peace was a stuttering word, holding minuscule hope for too many people.

Levi wished he couldn’t comprehend a person’s logic in want of safety over the luxury of feeling something perceived as small as the wind. Much in the way a breeze was dancing across his skin right then, hitting and cooling the dense warmth of sweat that had already formed on the back of his neck in the stark heat of the late morning. Handkerchief still in hand, he wiped the area dry, neatly folding the now somewhat damp cloth before putting it back to rest in his pocket.

Hange had been walking in front of him, her eyes searching over every little thing that crossed her path. She screamed out in excitement when she found a flower as blue as the sky overhead, crouching, almost picking it before she thought otherwise. “No, no, no, you’re much to precious for that.” Still, her hands hovered around it, as if she were going to cup it whole in her hands in an attempt to merge with it and feel the petals rub into and stain her fingertips. Still, even if it was a flower, Hange hadn’t been so cruel in a long time. “Look, Levi!” She looked at Levi, a childish sort of innocence having become her features. Laughter traveled the air, making small wind currents on their own as she stood up once again; her mood was somehow even more gleeful than before. “He may not seem like much in the grand scheme of things, people wouldn’t take a second look in the Capitol, no. You only see the rare crossbreed in only the richest of citizens nowadays! But I think if any of them—”

“ _Hang_.” Levi spoke his nickname for the woman with no change in demeanor, just a sight for his trouble. “I don’t need a 101 lesson in the interior’s decorating social mores and taboos.” It was actually a mild topic for her to consider. It almost hurt the man when she began delving into a monologue about pollination instead, somehow able to interconnect that with the origin of the phrase, and subsequent meaning, of “the birds and the bee’s”. The woman was fuckin’ crazy, but she was good in a fight and loyal. She was more vindictive than Levi when she was on a rampage.

Around noon they made it to the center most opening, three others positioned at various positions along the wall for different departure and incoming points to make it easier on travel. Today was supposed to be quiet for the gates, only opening once at the south for a handful of Collector’s that had journeyed outside about three weeks before. Levi and Hange would need to be there for that party, having started at the opposite end of the wall to end their day at the Kyoto gate.

Levi hated being so immobile. He’d been more than curious—no, suspicious—when Erwin tacked him, Hange, and Mike with this job. Three weeks away from Stohess, where they were supposed to be making plans for a recon mission, and babysitting the gate. Flits of their conversation rose to the front of his mind that day, sure to come and go as the hours ticked by walking and listening to his partner ogle and awe.

_“You are to be looking for any illegal contraband.”_

The words pushed forth, Erwin Smith’s voice as clear as if he were standing beside the Commander just now.

_“As if there were any other kind,” Levi quipped. “Why now? And for three weeks?” He snorted, a glare claiming his brow, casting a dark shadow over his grey eyes. “Don’t insult me.” The Commander simply gave Levi a ghost of a smile, bringing his hands to rest beneath his chin as he leaned forward on his desk._

_“You’re a good soldier, Levi.”_

_Levi’s arms crossed, knowing he trusted the man implicitly before him. Erwin was always thinking ahead, strategizing—he never did anything without reason._

The two inched their way closer, the usual scene of talking garrison members absent from their present line of vision. The woman in front of him slowed down at the same exact time Levi’s body tensed, his hands going to rest on the hilt of both his weapons. Somehow the air had grown thicker and the heat even more stifling than before. It may be nothing, but both Scout members knew that the center gate’s usual team was an unusually loud and energetic bunch. “Hang …”

“I see.” She whispered her response, turning her head so Levi could see her lips move incase she was speaking a touch too quietly.

Levi looked up, scanning the top of the wall to see if he could see the telltale sign of feet just at the edge of the chalk-colored wall—feet lazily scratching one leg or the other or crossed in a form too leisurely for his liking—from the people they had checking sights.

“What the fu—” He drew his blades, the familiar friction of resistance easing him into transition for battle. Protection. Reaction. Instinct.

Nothing. No one.

They ran to the entrance, a new sense of worry attaching itself to the pair, only to see the gate sealed shut and nothing an inch out of its place.

“It looks like nothing is out of order.” Hange said, eyes wondering much in the same way they had earlier, but with a distinct new goal in mind.

“Yeah, except almost twenty-five people are fucking missing.”

She looked down at her watch, shaking her head in disagreement, “No, sweetie, there are supposed to be fifteen stationed here today. The rest of the squad was supposed to dock on just half an hour ago.”

“What? Why?” If that much were true, they would have come up on people shifting their duties and readying different equipment for their checks and balances—just typical, every day shit to make sure no one accidentally impaled themselves on their own fucking blade. “There was nothing in the schedule about an arrival at this gate today!”

He cursed himself, having just taken his gear to get a repair on the extension mechanism yesterday. Mike had said not to worry about it when Levi requested a temporary replacement, the man actually having told him to have a stroll and take in the sights of Ganshia. It had been careless, and frankly stupid, of him to agree. He needed to be over that wall and, instead, he was useless; without the mobility gear he had no way or resource to pull himself that far up. He thought about opening the gate, but then remembered that neither he nor Hange had the correct combination of various tools and the know-how that the garrison of engineer’s employed or kept with them to open and close the damn thing. It had been called a goddamn “security issue” when Levi brought it up in their first briefing.

 _What was happening?_ He tried to think. _Was there any real reason for concern here?_

“Call it in on your—”

As if knowing what Levi was about to say, his Communicator and Hange’s both screamed with commotion, sending a shockwave through the air.

“What the hell was that?” Hange exclaimed. Both partners had their hands over their ears in a response much too lackadaisical to do any good at muffling the surprise.

The sound was still happening, her eyes widening as they both realized it wasn’t the Comm that had screeched, those were actual people screaming for help on the other side.

 

“Help! South Gate Entrance is being swarmed! I repeat, the Kyoto gate is being attacked!”

“This is Squad Tango Cash—” he winced at the absolutely stupid name Hange had written down as part of the coded identifying system between communications that day. “Do you copy?

He listened a bit longer, waiting … bits and pieces being interrupted by bursts of silence, surely because the military personnel on the other end had taken their finger on and off the button.

“What is tha—”

“Oh god!”

“Take cov—”

More screams. The popping of bullets. _Bullets?_

Levi quickly sheathed his sword at the sound of the pleading request, booming its way through their radio, telling Hange to do the same. Adrenaline drugging his blood, saturating himself and his entire being with a will hard to conquer, he took action. He turned to look in every direction, attempting to gauge other locations within a reasonable distance from their own. They were going to have to run, and fast.

“We’re in the center.” He finally spoke aloud, beginning with the most obvious fact first. Looking at his partner, he held himself with a confidence that told her he had a plan. They would get through this … whatever this was. “There should be a small village just a mile from here, it’s near the Ramada River. It’s their tourist season so there should be people.” He pointed back the way they came. “It’s in the opposite direction of Kyoto, but we’ll be running for another hour and half before we see anything in the right direction. If there are people, there are bound to be horses.”

“Ok, then.” She clapped her hands, a smile crinkling the sides of her now-gleaming eyes. An eagerness uneasily quenched overcame Hange Zoe just then; it was a determination Levi recognized and knew would be useful in the coming task.

“Get on a different frequency, tell Mike what is happening. But we do not radio to Kyoto any more. When we’re within a mile we turn our Comm units off, understand? Whoever is there will know we’re coming if the situation is not in our favor.” Hange nodded, giving a quick gruff of agreement. With her cooperation and confidence he pivoted on his left foot, marking the beginning of their long sprint towards the Ramada Village and River Resort. Levi felt a sensation burn within him, one he had never been able to properly describe but could easily attune its origin. The dirt thumping beneath him gave way to grass, the terrain flat for a good half-mile. A growl of pure hatred left him, thinking back to his commander in Stohess. “And we don’t want that, do we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for making it this far! I love hearing feedback from people, whether it come in the form of CONSTRUCTIVE criticism or ideas. Seriously, it's so neat to hear what others think and their opinions about a world you both love. However, I hope you liked what I have so far. I'll probably update soon because I written a little ahead and I can't stand to not be working on this for some reason. But I'm going to go hit my personal finance book because I can't do AGI formula's to save my life. See you soon!


	2. Lost World Pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go ... pt 2 of Lost World. After this, things should start picking up.

**Aberrant** : Creatures of unknown origin nearly impossible to kill. They show no signs of intelligence or reasoning capabilities. Seem to exist on pure instinct, driven by the want of human flesh and blood. There are different classes of Aberrant, which take into account speed, capability, seeming motivations (flesh vs. blood), and decomposition into order to factor estimated threat and strategy to survive imminent attack.  
 **Society's Hidden Behind Walls** : The Capitol of Sina, surrounded by two outer walls, was the first civilization built some years after the devastation of mankind in the 21st century. After almost 150 years, bounty hunters known as Collectors cleared out mass areas with the help of the Legion, slowly building new countries other than AOT District 1.   
 **Collectors** : Bounty hunters who are commissioned for any number of duties to go out and kill the Aberrant. They are unsanctioned, but reluctantly allowed, by the government. In the years since they were first established, the majority of Collectors abuse their power and are known to be vindictive and cruel. They show an extreme amount of disdain and blatant disrespect towards their “rivals” the Survey Corps.   
 **Survey Corps** : Named “Legion” when they first established, the Survey Corps is a branch of military unique to the confines of Walls Maria, Rose, and Sina as they are more adoringly called by all provinces and their fellow citizens as “The Wings of Freedom”. They are primarily responsible for expansion within their own walls and all others, constantly traveling and making plans for staking new prospects of land to be cultivated. There are many variations of their branch throughout the surrounding countries, but none hold the amount of respect or near the same goal—which is to one day break free of the walls that cage them.

\--

 

 _Somewhere Outside the Kyoto Gate; Common Commercial Traders Route_   

Eren didn’t dream when he was dead. There was nothing, his existence stalled and muted. Death was when he slept.  

A deep rasp sounded at the harsh intake of Eren’s chest. A barrage of memories flashing flashing flashing until his eyes opened to blurred unfamiliarity. He recognized the pulse of heat that surged from the darkest recesses of his body’s base, somehow causing him to shiver as it flowed throughout the rest of his body, welcoming him back from being gone so long. Resurrection.  
   
“Eren!” He blinked, only seeing his name form on Mikasa’s lips rather than hear it. Her hands gripped the thin fabric of his shirt, shaking him to react. “Eren?! Eren!” 

“What—” He heard the sound of hooves clomping on each side of him, voices coming primarily from the right and backside of his location, he heard discussion of time and distance; the manic laughter of a fellow Collector and his cronies making a sick game out of killing an Aberrant standing as background noise.  

“Look at this ugly son of bitch!” A sickening sort of crack and gurgled moan countered the mans sentiment, uninvitingly  reaching Eren inside the moving wagon, his stomach lurched, bile the first thing to wet his tongue and mouth since he’d awoken. 

Over time, the number of human-made trade routes grew, slowly but surely new societies began to build themselves again after The Fall, taking back what the strange creatures known only as Aberrant had stolen from them. Instead of fighting back, though, the humans retreated within themselves, hiding behind cages they saw fit to better call “Walls”. The cataclysmic event that saw over six billion people killed, or worse, turned, saw the evolutionary dynamic shift.  _Survival_ was what these people had industrialized, plowed, and settled in the centuries their world had been burned.  

Needless to say, said walls saw a many lucrative opportunity for those willing to take it. Trading became essential for the countries to survive, opening up constant bids on working construction contracts to erect safe, impenetrable weigh and rest stations for the traveling goods and its transporter along the way; the Legion (now known as the Survey Corps) was established in order to provide protection against the threat of the undead. It had been cause for a relatively encouraging domino effect in regards to job opportunity and raising the human spirit.

Eventually, as a well-developed military system was etched out and implicated within the walls, there were whispers of people here and there going out on their own (at first many were smuggled in and out by the trading companies) to “collect” a bounty requested of them. Different branches with specific purposes cropped up: workers who were commissioned to retrieve a lost family member; crews of six or more who cleaned up densely packed areas near new plots for targeted population expansion … the list went on and on, usually their duties coinciding with the Survey Corps’ missions. They ended up a respected part of society, a profession of value and one the central Capitol advocated for. Now? Much like any of the damn military, they were a weak, watered down version of their once former ideals. 

 _Collectors?_ Eren thought.  _Don’t make me laugh_. They were the present era’s fancy word for bounty hunter, even the first of their kind hadn’t been so arrogant as to call themselves something so convoluted. Now snubbed and unsanctioned—but nonetheless allowed by the government—it was still a popular job that held different responsibilities for the varying people who decided to take on the lifestyle. Most Collectors were abusive, filthy pricks, taking advantage of their position over others, easily described as vindictive towards the prey they hunted. In the years Eren and his sister had lived, they had run across only one network of these people who understood the calling. Typically, the brutes had no idea what the term was supposed to mean, the  _honor_  that they were soiling with their sadistic bullshit.  

“Eren, no—”  

Hands clamped themselves to cover his mouth, blood lapping his tongue and mouth as he bit into the fleshy part of his sister’s hand, the taste mixing itself at the bottom of Eren’s belly; riling and reaching within the darkest recesses of himself, a monstrosity of rising despair so profound he’d long ago learned it was difficult to control if provoked. She stood her ground, unwilling to let the men outside hear the inhuman growls fighting their way from her brother’s lips, easily signaling to them he was awake if she let go. “It's going to die either way.” Her voice, more pleading than she realized wasn’t heard. She felt it like he did, the call to help her own. Her strength matched his own as she kept her grip, wincing more as the wound began to heal—the sensation so foreign and awkward compared to the actual pain itself—than she did at the kicking man beneath her.  

 _“They have already killed you three times, brother_.” The voice fluttered within Eren, making him unclench his fists and feel the wet streak of blood wipe across his face as his sister had to press even harder to squelch the otherworldly sound he emitted. They rarely spoke like this with one another, the quiet too much for them to bear … speaking out loud was so full of passion and fervor and was such a  _human_ like attribute they dare not discard it in preference of their ability to communicate through thought alone. The two had enough responsibility that reminded them of their fate, speaking was their counter; a shield that they could rest easily behind. 

 _“Calm. Down.”_  His breathing slowed, sense returning to him in how the world started to bleed brightly with color.  

“Where are we?” Eren kept his voice low, voice muffled as he began speaking against the palm of her hand to show her he was ok. The sickness he felt after loosing control lingering sourly in the background. He needed to follow Mikasa’s example.  

“We’re almost to the Kyoto Gate … Midwest Region.”    
   
“Those bastards,” he angrily sneered. He hadn’t expected much else, but for the shitrags to have gotten the jump on him was incredulous. “The Midwest Region is too close.” He spoke with a new sense of urgency; an anxiety he wished wasn’t there too potent to hide from the raven-haired girl on her knees next to him. 

She nodded, the same worry furrowing the middle of her brow as she silently agreed with him. “It’s too late. They made sure to …” her nose scrunched, a memory consuming her with anger, “… incapacitate you. We’ll be at the gate in less than an hour.”  

Eren could see well in the dark enclosure of the wagon typical of all Southeast Trading caravans, the various boxes, crates, and barrels hiding them in the back. He sniffed the air, alarm rooting itself unbidden, “That’s gunpowder.”  

“Amongst other things.”   

He smelt it then, too … the dead and the living hidden amongst the numerous cargos for their special customers. 

 _No_.  

“We’re going to have to get into the gate if we have any chance of pushing forward to Didre.” Eren looked at his sister, never able to hide how she felt from him. He couldn’t help the upturn of his lips, remembering how furious he became when his sister, only a year younger than he, had always protected him when they were small. Right now, despite her best efforts, she looked scared. Noticing his amused smile, she pulled her deep red scarf up to rest on the bridge of her nose, covering the blush on her cheeks. “It’ll be difficult.” Eren thought of the area behind the Kyoto entrance, venom poisoning the trace amount of a long forgotten form of old English that slipped past his teeth at the prospect of seeing he and Mikasa’s homeland. “They will not win.”   

“Then you need to pretend to be dead when they come back to get us.” 

“Hmm,” he cricked a knowing smile. His hand rubbing the back of his neck to knead out the throb where Fredrick Ballot had broken his neck ten hours before, the fever of regeneration scorching his fingertips. “Then let’s make a plan. I want that fucker to pay.” 

\--

 

 _Kyoto; Military Response  _ 

Levi hadn’t expected any sort of welcoming party when he and the soldiers scrounged up finally arrived, but he can honestly say what was in front of him was pretty far off the mark too.  

 “My God.” Mike Zacharius pulled the reigns of his horse as he came up in line with Levi and Hange, his nose giving a customary sniff or two as he measured the area.  

“So?” Levi began his inquiry, raising one eyebrow towards the man. “What do you think?”  

Mike’s nose had long since been an issue of debate for Levi. Whether it was something he used as insult or reference, he’d always sought better to call the notion on its silliness; although, his trust in the man’s instincts, no matter where they came from, could hardly be ignored. 

Dismounting, Levi walked up onto the scene, the thick smell of blood filling his nostrils. He waited for his comrade’s assessment, taking in the people—or what was left of them—in front of him. His feet kicked up dust customary of this wall’s portion of the gate, countless wagon wheels and the tromping of horse’s hooves busting the ground, wearing down the ground. Bullet holes now decorated the wall on either side of the now closed entrance, whoever having done the shooting not caring or distressed enough to take the time and aim carefully at their target. There was even a member of the military hanging by their grappling hook, having died from a bullet that looked to have lodged itself in his back.    
   
“Did people do this?” Rico Brzenska asked the obvious question, her own answer fastening her words, bogging them down with the implications a certain answer could bring. 

“It smells like death.” The first thing to come from Mike’s mouth and it was an obvious and very  _shit_ analysis of the situation.  

“Boss,” Hange sounded for Levi’s attention. “Look at this.”   

He knelt down where the scientist was carefully examining one of the bodies—a female trader, from the looks—her index finger and thumb holding up the ripped cloth of her travelers uniform from her abdomen, revealing an obliterated torso. Deep lacerations were visible down the length of her body, blood such a heavy pool beneath her it was hard to see what had actually killed her.  

“Whatever killed this woman was very angry,” Hange stated breathlessly.    
   
“Oi, no joke, Shitty Glasses?” He lightly tapped the woman’s thigh with the tip of his boot, nudging her to snap out of tendencies characteristic of her but abnormal to everyone else. He could already feel the indignation of Brzenska’s disapproving, upturned lip. “Tell us something we don’t know.”    
   
“I think it was done by Aberrant.” 

He’d known in his many years of being a soldier that nothing was out of the question. No one ever believed the Underground would be overrun with a horde of those undead fucks and still, by means of which are still a mystery, the entire city below the Capitol had been almost completely wiped out in less than an hour. It still didn’t help him in being unable to stop himself from wanting to smack her mouth for saying such reckless things. 

“Like hell.” His grimace deepened, listening to Hange blurt her reasoning. Other than he, Hange, Rico, and Mike there were eight other soldiers a day out of their graduation. Tomorrow was their final leave to pack up and go to whatever district they were assigned, it was all the senior officers had managed to scrounge up in the small time they had to react. Levi groaned at the thought, watching their faces scrunch, their bodies shudder, and their hands clench at his partner’s thoughtlessness. He knew that before their sweep was over, each one would have to slapped with a gag order unless the government wanted its citizens killing each other in a panic.   

“Yet, despite all of the betraying signs of an Aberrant perpetrator existing here there is no yellow marking the ring of the pupil of the deceased, their veins aren’t darkening in color, and—” her voice cut off as she leaned in closer, smelling the flesh of the victim. “—the typical smell of their saliva and body odor is absent.” 

She was right, making what Mike had said sound even more implausible.

Aberrant always left a clue, the largest two being the dead body they’d disemboweled, later turned and walking about, or the stench of their corpses. He’d listened to Hange explain dozens of times—effectively ruining the meal they were eating or the peace he had been experiencing—about the improbabilities and problems an Aberrants’ biology proposed. They fed off humanity, their entire existence revolving around being the hunter of man, essentially never touching or paying mind to livestock, birds, or insects. Even so, some Aberrant they passed on expeditions who hadn’t seen a human in years had become stagnant for so long vines had twisted and grown up their legs, rooting them firmly to the ground. They had no obvious reasoning capabilities, intelligence, or way of communicating with one another. Their bodies, though decayed and corpse-like, never went past a certain point of decomposition; unfortunately, not one of those freaks ever just popped into dust over existing too long. Granted, Levi had been the unfortunate recipient of one of those bloated freaks walking off a roof and exploding their rotted guts all over him from the impact. He hadn’t been able to get the smell of him for months, practically scrubbing himself raw in the showers. Hange actually had a “Stages of Decomp” poster in her lab that Levi couldn’t help but snarl at every time he had to visit her. Their minds worked like instinct was their driving force, as if that were the action that led them to survive rather than human flesh.  

“I wish I had my tools!” She bonked her forehead in an attempt at chastisement. 

“Hang, pull back you’re too close to its teeth.” His face betrayed nothing at the small glare she gave him, knowing he’d be called a bigot later for his use of pronoun, which was wrong in her mind.    
   
“Look around you, sweetie!” She threw her arms open to indicate the fucking slaughterhouse in front of them. “None of these people have turned. If these traders were supposedly killed by the predator it looks to be, they should have been moaning and groaning within minutes, and in the couple hours it took for us to get here nothing has happened. Even the soldier hanging from his wire—his wound completely different than these, murdered by friendly fire, and nothing.” 

“Still.” Her attitude didn’t lax, never outwardly surprised by their largely difference in opinion when it came to those creatures. “Sever their spinal corn and damage the brain stem.”  

His hand moved towards the brown leather pouch that hung from his pants belt loop, taking out an instrument every citizen was required to have on their person at all times, the heavy mineral ending in a sharp, unapologetic point.  

“Get to work,” he ordered. The brat cadets, who had been carrying out the orders of Rico, saw what was in the Captain of the Survey Corps hand. There were a good twenty people here when you counted up the team of engineers and transport, all of whom had been ripped apart. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These first couple chapters are just my attempt at world building and softly introducing a few concepts and characters. They are particularly short, but I do hope to start making the chapters longer, and hopefully I won't find that to be a problem considering what I have planned. But thank you for reading so far! It does start picking up and getting interesting. People start meeting, things start happening, the rating picks up ... I will implement my ideas and start focusing on dialogue/character interaction. yaddee yada ... until next time!


	3. Unravel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earlier Levi had been struck by an endless expanse of green; mismatched irises now replaced previous pools of emery and azure. A color he could not decipher glowed back at him from one eye, while the other was still that same, beautiful green. He tilted his head back, bending at an almost inhuman angle to stare at the Scout; revealing an open, smiling mouth plastered and drying with blood, the young man looked truly crazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which things start to happen. And I swear to God I'm going to earn my rating ... just not yet .. but almost.

Weeks went by, the assault on the outer district of Ganshia still more mystery than not. Erwin spoke little of the result, having pulled Levi and Hange back into Stohess within four days of the breach. 

“I don't think I've been handed this much busy work since I joined ranks.” Levi looked around, complaining more to himself than to his loud-mouthed partner. He and Hange were in a small cornerstone shopping area known as the Valencia Marketplace. Mouth pressed in a hardline, the most he could do in differentiating the two of them from the Military Police was that they didn’t lean against the damn wall while on post. 

“It is curious.” She sounded thoughtful, each word holding the connotation of something vastly greater. “But the fact that we had an entire team of Collectors killed—” 

“You mean scumbags,” he readily corrected.

“Their leader,” she continued with a distinct slant in her words, flicking the mans forehead in a playful gesture he wouldn’t have accepted from anyone else, “was the only one left alive out of that entire transport. Even the merchants were …” Levi could have sworn that was a wince on the woman's face, staying for only a second before it gave way, molding into one of mere curiosity. “We've only witnessed mutilation like that come close when an Aberrant is involved. I don't think our dear friend Mr. Ballot was meant to survive.” 

“The guy had part of his throat ripped out.” Levi had to give the guy some credit, how he'd managed to keep himself from dying was beyond him. “It was fucking massacre.” 

They didn't speak for a while after that; instead, they walked much in the same way they had when scouting the perimeter of Ganshia wall. Levi didn’t have the nerve or stomach to say it out loud again, not yet. The districts had been eerily quiet in the weeks following the attack. Pulled back within the inner Capitol, the excuse Erwin had used for wanting Levi and Hange back was so they could be there when Fredrick Ballot was finally well enough to give them some answers. 

There had been nothing but carnage left when Levi and the rest of the response team had arrive at Kyoto. It was lucky enough one of the engineers from the Garrison had heard Ballot’s gurgling right before staking his fucking brain stem. All of this didn’t matter in regards to Hange or Levi. If Erwin wanted them for Ballot’s interrogation, so be it; but their three week stay in Ganshia should have in no way been affected by the attack. Rather, you would think their stay increased in order to further investigate future incoming trade. Needless to say, whoever or whatever did that to those people was more than likely still out there and Levi and Hange had either been brought closer to the beast or pulled further away. Either way, it didn’t diminish the infuriation Levi felt to still hear less of an explanation than he deserved when he found himself back in front of Erwin to report the incident. 

He mulled the information over, picking through what little there was to find any clues that may help him and Hange know what to expect. It was only the two of them until Eld and Petra were back from extraditing a prisoner to the walls of New England in the East. So the two of them would have to watch the other’s back with their least than high expectations of help from the Sina Military Police.

It was only when he heard arguing that he was able to focus his attention elsewhere. At the rate in which their days were now passing, in which mundane was the norm, he saw no threat in the scene just ahead of him. The market tended to be crowded in the early evening, causing many officers to be on patrol in watch of thieves and vagrants. Almost always some kid would pick a fight with one of the Military Police just to show how much of an asshole he could be to his buddies. So it was no surprise at the two officers, both MP’s, pointing their fingers in reprimand at a character Levi couldn't see. The person had his back facing the two Scouts, his head well hidden beneath a dark hood. He was tall, and obviously young from the stupidity he reeked in wanting to pick a bone with a couple blockhead military jackals so close to Sina. Levi took a step closer, curiosity winning as he watched the girl next to him raise her hand as to touch her companion’s shoulder, having an almost instantaneous effect in relaxing his entire demeanor. Leaning into his ear—her own face cloaked by a thick red scarf and long, dark black hair that rivaled Levi’s own—she was able to gain control without speaking one word.  

The boy leaned into her, revealing some of his features. Levi logged the olive tint of the kid’s skin, the curvature of his nose and mouth, the mess of brown hair that hid his forehead. 

 “Hm.” He could all but feel Hange’s eyes boring a hole through his skull. “That boy.” Levi nodded his head towards the couple in front of them. “He look familiar?”  

“No, Captain.” 

“He does to me.” Something untouched for a very long time sat in the back of Levi’s mind, recognition burned within him but wouldn’t let itself be known.

The strange, almost luminescent green of his irises is what gave the kid away, the bright orbs a color Levi had never been able to properly describe on his own. Eyes the man had never really forgotten, seemingly misplaced and hidden from at the same time. He watched the boy turn to look behind he and his companion, acting as if he were marking each way they could flee or hide need be the challenge arose. In his quick search he was quick to see the navy blue of the Survey Corps, he locked sights with Levi, something near agitation transpiring below his surface and causing him to pull the girl close, no longer wanting to stick around and finish his fight.  

_That wasn’t at all suspicious._

The two officers looked more relived than anything—no paperwork for them tonight—and went back to their stations.

“Hang, now.” Levi pushed forward, eyes keeping with the color of a bright red scarf, the ends fluttering the air as it moved deeper within the crowd. “You saw them, right?” He turned to see a nod from Zoe, quickly looking back to see nothing. They were gone. “Son of a bitch.”  

“What is it, Levi?” She was confused, wondering why he was making such a fuss about two kids giving the MP’s a hard time.

“It’s …” 

 _“Have you ever prayed to God, Levi?”_ The voice was an old one that Levi had packed away, remembering only in the strangest or most fleeting of moments.

“You act like you’ve seen a ghost.”  

Somehow, her expression was enough to make the tongue in Levi’s mouth feel heavy, dry.   

“I just … never mind. It was nothing.”  

The look on Hange’s face told him she didn’t believe him.  

“Well I say since Erwin is treating us like a bunch of Military Police that we act like a couple of Military Police—what do you say?” 

He couldn’t help but take a look back at the mass of people behind him, wondering how the hell they’d disappeared so quickly. 

_“I’m never going to let you forget. Don’t you ever fucking forget that I was here … that I was your first.”_

“Lead the way.” He shrugged, somehow forcing a glower of mild indifference despite himself, a shudder crawling his spine as the voice echoed, awakening lost parts tucked deep inside the most cavernous depths of his being.

There was a question changing the shape of her lips, raising Hange’s left brow she sported a shit-eating grin for the ages before heading in the opposite direction of the two teenagers. She wouldn’t ask anything of Levi now. 

Hange enrolled in the military fresh out of Sina’s most prestigious university, she had been there four years by the time Levi arrived. Still unsure how to pronounce half of her credentials, much less say it in its correct order, she’d talked his ear off during his first few days of training, telling him she’d come to the Scout Regiment looking to be a part of a Special Operations Squad; her goal to explore and come to understand the flesh-eating, blood-guzzling fucks that roamed the world.

Despite Levi’s piss poor attitude towards her, Hange never backed away. She simply spoke with him, not at him, watching as the days pressed on and he would begin to give simple shrugs in response or a slight nod of agreement concerning the fellow trainee’s aspirations. It was no stretch to call Zoe Hange Levi’s polar opposite, and one of the only people he could stand to work with; he was sure as much could be said from her perspective. He trusted the woman, more than he trusted most anyone else. They had an agreeably strange, albeit amicable, relationship with one another. No doubt the two were equals.

Seeing Hange now, the same vigor he’d witnessed at only twenty-three, he never understood what had consumed her to keep so close to him. She was always looking out for him, whether it be to enhance some part of his 3DM-gear or giving him a push to crack a smile at the children who greeted them as they returned from a recon mission, personally asking him if he’d had a good trip outside the walls. The way their eyes beheld stars captivated him, how they were never able to keep their hands from touching the green cloth of his cloak, trailing the soft fabric that smelt of green pasture and blue sky. It always made him think of his face being shoved in gutter water, his hands tied behind his back in the Underground as he listened to Erwin lecture him about the struggle of their ancestors against the Aberrant. Sentimental bullshit steeping the Commander of the Survey Corps’ words … but now, as he watched Hange bob her ponytail back and forth, pointing at various bar and grill’s to stop at, he realized his own sentimentalities. There was always _something_ worth fighting for.   

 --

_ The Rosed Tavern  _

The Rosed Tavern was a sort of side venture for Dot Pixis--a leading member of the Garrison of Engineers--a place to retire after a long days work and something to have after his service in the military was no longer needed. The place was a popular watering hole for the different regiments, a ground of neutrality standing inside so no one regiment fucked with another. It was typically peaceful, save for the occasional Collector mucking up the place with their stink.  
  
“Haven’t seen you two in awhile!” Low and behold, Pixis stood behind the bar, still in uniform and filling a mug off the tap that was undoubtedly for him and not a customer

“Pixis!” Hange ignored formalities, choosing instead to plop her ass down on one of the bar stools.  
  
Levi stared, watching the brunette not think twice as she grabbed from a communal bowl of nuts that sat in front of her. He felt his muscles tense from being unable to stray far from the amount of germs she was currently inhaling. Crumbs littered the bars exterior, making him want to gag for not bringing any sort of way to sterilize the place first. He wanted the place to hemorrhage bleach for weeks if possible.  
  
“Oh, sit, Levi, sit!” Pixis patted at the empty space next to Hange. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Hmph …” He sat carefully, pulling his customary handkerchief from his pocket, wiping the surface in front of him. “I’ll take a draft, Commander.”  
  
“I can only imagine what you’re going to do with that when you get home.” Hange teased him about the piece of cloth, but knew enough to keep from poking or tapping him with her now greasy fingers. “Throw it in the trash? Incinerate it?”

“Funny.” He gave a nod of thanks as a dark beer was sat in front of him.  
  
“Your compulsions fascinate me, you know?” He did. “I believe the longest I’ve ever seen you go without a shower was a day and a half and you were practically itching to jump into the nearest creek.”

“It calms me down.” Levi spoke the words softly, watching the textile move in circles at the command of his hand. “Cleaning helps with the …”

Her chewing slowed, waiting to see if he would delve any further as his sentence trailed. Levi shook his head, the routine of folding the material almost as soothing as the small bit of cleaning. 

“Heard you two had quite the commotion when you were stationed in Ganshia.”

Levi looked at the Commander, half hidden behind the glass he now lifted to his lips. He watched the highest ranking Garrison member of the Southern Territory drown in the amber hue of his drink, knowing the man had never been one for beating around the bush.  
  
“I’m sure you’ve heard it all already.”

The two Scout's were well aware that Pixis had been in contact with Erwin after the gate, but that didn’t mean the Scout was going to spill everything from his first hand account to the man. He was more reserved than that.   

“Ignore him. He’s been cranky ever since the market. Acts like he’s seen an old lover or something!”

The older man let escape a hearty laugh at Hange’s quip, the sound easily matching his eccentric nature. Levi felt his eyes roll, scoffing her brazen nature and creepily sharp instinct. It didn’t matter that the woman was kidding, the way his bones cracked beneath the strain of his tense muscle was clue enough he’d believed what—who—had appeared before him.

Levi decided to keep quiet, letting Hange go off on another tangent instead. She talked to the man about her new grappling and anchor system, designed to take stress off the individual in flight and battle. Pixis beamed, the engineer inside him able to turn every corner with Levi’s mad scientist, keeping up and asking questions along the way.  Levi was typically the woman’s guinea pig; standing around to let her take his measurements or log in information as he tested out her tweaks and—mostly—improvements. He didn’t mind it so much. If she were able to successfully subtract most of the strain the omnidirectional mobility gear had on his body, he’d be a-oh-fucking-kay with that. Having spent most of his life in the Underground, he’d learned to defend himself at a young age, always able to run away when needed or fight when necessary. His body already lean from years of rations, learning the spins and tricks of the ODM gear had only served to strengthen his body in muscle, but also wear it down from fatigue at the same time.

“Captain Ackerman, squad leader Hange Zoe, report location.

One of the things about being inside a richer district meant nicer toys, ergo the tickle Levi felt in his ear from the vibration of the microscopic Comm Unit that had been implanted upon he and Hange’s arrival. He hated carrying the bulky equipment of the outer districts; the weight of the walkies and transportable CB radios more of a hindrance than help.  
  
He pushed his finger on his ear, looking at Hange to see her looking to the side as she waited for their instructions. As much as Levi hated to admit it, silence didn’t suit her.  
  
“This is Ackerman,” he stated.  
  
“Humanity’s Stronnnnnngest!” And there his partner was, quickly remembering herself.

Nevertheless, the glare directed at her was forceful enough to make her squeak an apology.

“We’ve gotten reports of a disturbance over on Barker Avenue. Are you able to assist?”

Levi scoped his watch, wondering why they were being asked to handle a duty fit for the Military Police.  
  
“What about your patrol officers?" 

“They are in between shift changes, sir. I did radio two Garrison members, but I haven’t heard anything back from them since they reported confirmation of orders. It will be at least another twenty minutes until an MP will be able to arrive on scene. And—”  
  
“And what?” His voice was brisk, irritated at the young woman’s unease.  
  
“Well, the area is very … how should I phrase this eloquently?” A slight pause separated her words. “It’s a neighborhood where there needs to be an amount of discretion handled. This alert in particular is very disconcerting. The address is a place of residence well respected and admired. We trust you to be tactful in your duties, sir.”

He felt each beat in between blinks, waiting to see if she would continue.  
  
When she didn't, “We are wired and connected to the system, just tap in the address to our tablets. We’re on our way. Expect an update from either me or my partner confirming our arrival.”  
  
“Yes. Thank you, sir.” A click sounded, cutting the young ladies voice and leaving the clink of bar glasses and drunken laughter in its wake.

“Time to go, Hang.”  
  
“Such a stick in the mud!” Her words were a declaration, cheeks a shade of rose red from the heat of alcohol coursing through her system. “Always following the rules.” Hange said her goodbyes to Pixis, laying their money on the table for the drinks. “You know, I don’t know why you shrug off the title. It sure does fit you.”

“You referring to “Humanity’s Strongest”?”  
  
“What else? You’ve definitely earned that—if only people knew how much of a neurotic clean freak you really were.”

He hid the hint of a smile forming on his lips, doing his best to steer her in the direction of Barker Avenue.

“So what do you think’s going on?”

“Haven’t a clue. It’s on Barker, though. Needless to say, there can are only so many possibilities running through my head right now.”  
  
Barker Avenue was known as the richer citizen’s Red Light District. It was a street lined up in the business of fulfilling a person’s darker fantasies. Home after home modeled in true prohibition fashion; secret nooks, rooms, and crannies almost guaranteed their anonymity. Not to mention, the military were never called to such places. It was one of the worst kept secrets of the inner cities—sex trafficking, child slavery, fetish dens—if you could name it, more than likely you would find it.

“Why would someone call in a disturbance?”  
  
“It was probably a panic button.” Hange muttered her conclusion. “No way any one would call us without real reason.”  
  
Levi nodded, “You’re right.”  
  
They had a rough five-minute walk in front of them. They used the back alleys to their advantage, cutting their trek in half but having to step over double the shit. Levi missed the clean air of Ganshia, cringing at the splash of wastewater he’d poorly avoided. The smell gave way to his anxiety, having him pull hard at the hem of his worn, brown leather gloves; feeling the soft pelt stretch against his calloused palms gave way to some relief. The white of his cravat reminding him of his choices made, that he had chosen a path to be proud of … a path _they_ would be proud of. 

“Chesterfield House,” Hange groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Levi took a careful step forward, looking up and down the outside of the home. The front door was closed, the steps leading up to it few in number … its silence reminded him of the center gate. He remembered Hange’s comment, seeming unbothered and more interested than afraid at the undisturbed scene that day; now, however, she just sounded exasperated, knowing the consequences of fucking up on a house call such as this one.

Her hands moved to her pockets, bringing out a lozenge and popping it into her mouth. At least she had some semblance of practicality in mind. Alcohol on the breath was just asking for trouble from pricks like these.  
  
Barker Avenue was actually a beautiful neighborhood. It was bright in the daytime, full of grand picket fences and front gates, flowers accenting the muted whites and brick of the homes that lined the street; currently, on the other hand, the place was dark, and deadly still. The noises of the well off sharing together in their strange, selfish desires hidden beneath hundreds of thousands of dollars in sound proofing technology and the maze of corridors that existed within the lower levels of their homes.  
  
“Harrison Chesterfield, correct?” He asked his partner already knowing the answer, taking those steps to finally stand at the front door. “I always found it pretentious to name your estate.” His fist banging on the door was enough to keep away the memory of an old rotted piece of plywood hanging from a very different front door, reading ACKERMAGNOLAN HOUSE. But only just. “Scouting Legion!”  
  
He waited a good thirty seconds, listening for any sign of footsteps or someone bolting out the back door. He eyed Hange, raising an eyebrow to question her readiness.  
  
“Do you even have to ask, sweetie?”

The door was unlocked, revealing a barren home. Levi knew no one would be above ground, at least. It was your typical weekend night in the ‘burbs of Stohess. Having been shown the master plans for this block alone, the man knew about an underground tunneling system that the people used for travelling undetected interconnected each residence. Some tunnels stayed solely within the neighborhood while few branched out further, ending up at the end of another fucked up situation Levi didn’t want to think about. Just a bunch of fools looking to get their rocks off, surely they were able to find more purpose in literally burning their wealth to ash than give into such deplorable bullshit … _surely_.

“There’ll be nothing up here.” He whispered to Hange.  
  
His eyes roamed the insides of the immaculate interior of the home, hearing a strange pulsation throb the air. It vibrated the floorboards, reminding him of the way his ear canal shook earlier at the COMM-U greeting them. He stepped forward, a large plum colored rug haphazardly strewn across the floor. Bingo.  
  
Hange knelt down with him, helping him lift the trap door that the carpet had done a shit job at hiding; a strange sound that had been muffled by its closure now reigning full force.  
  
“What is that?” He asked, almost yelling over the severe sound.  
  
“It’s music, silly!” Her eyes were ablaze, a small chuckle escaping her lips at the disbelieving face set before her. “It’s a little different than what you’re used to, but that’s what it is. I swear it! Cross my heart and hope to die!”  
  
“We can only hope.”  
  
The music was unforgiving, making for a bad omen if he or Hange took one misstep. The bottom lead to pitch black, revealing a split corridor that veered in two different directions.  
  
“Home Office this is Ackerman. Request backup at Chesterfield residence.”  
  
The commotion too loud for him to hear the voice on the other end, the feel of his COMM-U prickling inside his ear was the only indicator anyone had heard him at all.  
  
He pointed to his left, signing for Hange to take the right.  
  
“No way. We shouldn’t split up.”  
  
“Go. Now.” Levi mouthed, making sure she was barely visible before pressing on his heel to disappear opposite her.  
  
He saw one candle lit on the wall, the glow from its light enough for him to see the entire hallway was lined with them, but had been blown out. The loud thumping _fucking_ music was coming from just behind the sizeable red door now in front of him. He walked up, hands drawing one of his blades in preparation. There was an empty stool where he supposed a guard was to sit. The unmanned door was a bad sign—there should have been someone at watch, making sure no unwanted guests intruded upon the night’s activities.

 _That’d be the shits, wouldn’t it?_ He thought, a small but entertained smirk crossing his lips. _Wanting to be a part of something so badly you'll just as well man the door than participate?_

He lifted a few fingers and pushed, taking a step back as he watched the door slowly creak open.  
  
What awaited his eyes was sordid. From the ceiling hung bird-like cages, inside lie the maimed corpses of mere children. Small, porcelain bodies bruised and broken, toes stuck out from the gaps in the golden bars of the rounded confines. The checkered, black and white tile of floor was barely visible, corpses filling the ground like discarded trash blinking in and out of visibility at the strobing light.

Levi saw familiar, broad shoulders. A loose fitting sweater showed the curvature of a casual stance, the black fabric barely showing the minute movements of rigid muscle.

A scratch filled the air, followed by a stark, heavy silence that was becoming all too common in these last weeks. Levi’s eyes fluttered to watch the _drip_ … _drip_ … _drip_ of blood falling from the cages that softly rocked above them. He felt a wretch knot in his stomach, not yet moving towards the man facing away from him.  
  
“Do you know how long it has been since I’ve listened to good, proper music?

Levi felt the air hit his teeth as he hissed in response, readying his weapon enough to fight. His eyes narrowed at being met with the same face from Valencia. Messy chestnut hair swept over his face, doing nothing to hide the eyes that sat beneath.

 _What_?

Earlier Levi had been struck by an endless expanse of green; mismatched irises now replaced previous pools of emery and azure. A color he could not decipher glowed back at him from one eye, while the other was still that same, beautiful green. He tilted his head back, bending at an almost inhuman angle to stare at the Scout; revealing an open, smiling mouth plastered and drying with blood, the young man looked truly crazy.

“Quite a disgusting place, isn’t it?” His attention focused back on his previous task, voice lazy and disturbingly casual, even languid. Levi saw his hands holding a large black and round object up to the light, completely at ease. Rolling his hips side-to-side as the music began its deafening assault once again, he turned to meet Levi's gaze. “Quite the apt end for them, isn't it? Littering the ground in their deaths just like the garbage they were when alive.”

The music was progressively getting louder, muting what he was saying. Not that it seemed to matter, his lips speaking a mantra of unintelligible words until they were changing to fit the lyrics of the song instead. Singing and paying little mind to Levi. He had no fear of the elite soldier before him, seeing no threat in a man that could kill him without any reason other than he wanted to. Such actions left little to be desired, the omnipresence of the individual sincerely worrying Levi.

Instead of rushing to confrontation, he watched him dance over the cadavers, somehow gracefully stepping in and out of limbs and pooled blood. He was acting strange. Hands in the air, singing at the top of his lungs.  
  
“Son of a bitch.” Levi saw it then, the way the kid’s pupils were blown, the heat of his cheeks … he was blitzed out of his fucking mind.  
  
His voice pushed the bounds of Levi’s memory once more, the cloud slowly lifting as remnants of his youth began to push themselves forward. He had been ignoring the nag in him all evening, decidedly giving his brain the bird and focusing his attention elsewhere.  
  
Undisturbed, the man twirled, hand held above his head in ridiculous fashion. Mouth screaming the lyrics of the strange melody, “Where is your boy tonight? I hope he is a gentleman! Maybe he won’t find out what I know: that you were the last good thing about this part of town!”

  
He gave absolutely no fucks. But that didn’t matter, Levi watched as he carefully stepped with him, remembering the way he scanned the market earlier that day. He’d had every exit, distraction, and hiding spot down in less than fifteen seconds. And then he saw it—it was only a second—but those half-lidded eyelids rose, the glaze dowsing the creature's eyes lifting as he assessed Levi’s stance. He was wondering if it was more practical to flee or fight.  
  
“Levi!”  
  
The voice made his veins run cold, the mop-head’s demeanor flipped, the fear Levi felt when seeing the caked on blood cracking at the edge of his lips reared its ugly head.  
  
“Zoe!” Levi watched the male's features turn, twist, and distort into something more crazed, more inhuman. His right eye flared, as if he was unable to control the reaction, and he bared his teeth in a show of dominance. Levi hadn't needed to see any of that to be certain the kid was responsible for the death and destruction that would now forever haunt this household, but he realized the transformation helped him see that he had no problem ripping up the people in pieces before them. So Levi turned, holding out his hands to stop his partner from coming any further; knowing he and Hange were child's play for the fucker. The damn thing had been biding his time, waiting for the soldier to make his move; Levi had known that. And he’d just given the kid a golden opportunity—for the first time, Levi was the one with his back facing away.  
  
Glasses reached for him, fingers outstretched and screaming Levi’s name as his blood unceremoniously slapped across her face, painting her an awful shade of red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll be seeing things from Eren's POV, I'm sure. Hope you had a good time this chapter! As always, thank you for reading! Things are picking up. Finally. I love writing these two, by the way. And I know "The Rosed Tavern" isn't very creative, but hey, it worked. If you have something better, I'm all ears. ;) ~Until next time!


	4. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was both a BEAST and an absolute BITCH to write. It's 15 pages long and is a flashback and time overlap. It's 5 in the morning and I wanted to finally be able to post it so here it is. I've just been going back and forth with it, trying to make it better and tweak it and I'm pretty sick of looking at right now, so if there are mistakes, I do plan to go back through it within a few days time.
> 
> As I was saying, all Eren's POV. You see some of the events from the night people refer to as "The Fall", all of it is hinting and foreshadowing and forwarding the plot. Answers regarding the more vague happenings will come, I just wanted you to see this from the perspective of a boy who had no idea about what was going on, nor how close he was to said events. Also, the time overlap is a small bit from Eren's POV again after his antics get he and Mikasa spotted by Levi and Hange--well, mostly Levi. 
> 
> It took me awhile to figure out what I wanted this chapter to be, what I wanted to convey and so on/so forth. I didn't want to do a flashback so soon, but I felt it was important to show this as a way of pairing it with a scene of the two siblings fighting with one another about his temper. It isn't much, but you see a vague evolution of their relationship. I suppose over 500 years with someone would get a little bit irritating; still, he wants nothing more than to be close with her.
> 
> As it is, I did write ASL/sign language into this chapter. I do indicate when it is being used, but I both italicize and mark it with quotations. During this time, there is no one speaking. It's all hands, so to say.

Night of The Fall: _Washington D.C., Jeager Household ****  
  
_  
 _“Hello. My name M-I-K-A-S-A. Your name what?”_

Eren watched his sister’s hands and fingers move deftly, expertly, _and beautifully_ as they contorted into shapes that had once been unfamiliar and foreign. His face lit in surprise, he was atrocious at reading fingerspelling, but he was getting the hang of catching certain transitioning letters as Mikasa spelled familiar words to him. In this case, she introduced herself, asking him to do the same. 

_“My name E-R-E-N.”_

_“Nice.”_ Her hands came together, dominant hand on top of her non-dominant left palm, dragging the right all the way to the left’s fingertips. 

 _“Thank you_. _”_ Eren loved the way Mikasa looked at him when he spoke to her like this. It was as if her entire world was on fire, like everything made sense to her. Her mother had been partially deaf, so sign language had been Mikasa’s primary method of communication since she was small.  
  
When she had first come home with Eren and his father, she barely spoke; small nods, one-word answers, shy eyes that darted to an object of desire (cup, pencil, book). At first, everyone had learned what he or she could to coax her, a more comfortable means of transition into the Jaeger household. But Eren had listened when his mama had told him sign language was important to his sister, had heard her say to Grisha it was one of the ways she was holding onto her family, her mother; so he decided he’d make sure Mikasa would never forget. 

When he saw the blush rise to her cheeks, dusting a beautiful light shade of pink, Eren was sure he’d never seen anything more stunning. Her big, grey eyes sparkling as she said, “Thank you.”  
  
It had been small, nothing spectacular. Just a wave of his hand, his brow furrowing as he recalled how his mother showed him to ask her to help him understand. It was a sorrowful display of the language; nonetheless, she understood. This was his olive branch, Eren’s way of saying he was there for her. He would never leave her. He would always protect her.  
  
 _“O-K.”_ She was flipping through a set of flash cards, separating them into piles she deemed acceptable. “ _Time for new vocabulary_.” 

Eren nodded, signing back, “ _No fingerspelling_?” 

He couldn’t help the laugh that came with her arching an eyebrow, “ _You want hard(er) study questions?_ ” She started shuffling what she had in her hand, waiting for him to tap the table in an answer. “ _I,_ ” She pointed her finger at her chest in a clean, clear sign. Never sloppy. “ _Give you easy day. But I can make hard.”_

 _“No, no, no_.” Eren shook his head back and forth; face contorted in mock pain as he repeatedly moved his index and middle finger up and down off of his thumb. “ _Easy good_.” Now he was taking his fist, in the shape of the letter “S”—much like from the alphabet the alphabet (easiest way to remember, in his opinion)—and nodding it up and down furiously, signing “yes”.  
  
Mikasa had the most infectious smile. She didn’t do it often, her personality cool and somber; perhaps, that’s why Eren loved it so much in the first place. He wasn’t quite sure. Eren sometimes wondered what she was like before her parent’s deaths—he was 13 now and she was 11, but he could tell that she felt very old sometimes. Had that laugh sung throughout her room, dancing across the middle of her home until it flitted and filled the corners? Had she smiled just for the sake of it … because she could and she was here and she was alive?  
  
She held up a flashcard, sign facing him, a woman looking at him stared back, eyebrows up, forefinger and thumb pinched at the middle of her neck—almost like an ‘F’—a mark on the card indicated the sign moved.  
  
He closed his eyes in concentration, rummaging through his cataloged nonsense of a brain, the word just at the edge.  
  
“Hm,” his throat scratched from disuse.  
  
Mikasa brought her left hand up, all fingers except her thumb fluttering in a straight line across the air: “ _Fingerspell_.”  
  
Eren gave a small sigh and nodded. He may have been bad at reading fingerspelling, but he was all right when it came to the spelling itself.  
  
 _“C-U-R-I-O-U-S._ ” He didn’t draw a question mark at the end, it would just make Mikasa ask him if he knew for sure or didn’t. Either way, the card would go back to the end of the pile. Neither of them would leave the table until he was able to answer at least a hundred and remember them three times through.  
  
The siblings jumped at the sound of the front door opening and closing, the atmosphere that surrounded them while signing becoming much different as Carla Jeager chattered her hello’s from the front of the large apartment. Mikasa sat the cards down, signing to Eren they would study later; he waited for her to put the cards up, offering his hand as they padded to the kitchen to help his mother unpack groceries.  
  
Sliding his feet on the hardwood, he called out his own greeting; watching at the opaque walls that had been surrounding he and Mikasa slowly reveal clear glass, giving way to the pinks and oranges of the impending evening. 

Eren couldn’t help the hitch in his breath or jump in his step at the sight. Coming here for his father’s work, Washington D.C. was a far cry from the small podunk Midwestern town Eren had been born. They lived high up in the city, the newest bouts of construction closing the gap between the distance of the skyscrapers highest livable floor and its actual architectural top. It was the third megatall skyscraper to be built stateside; reaching almost 900 meters, 887 of said meters was livable; a feat of immeasurable proportion. Eren didn’t question the science of it, whether or not such a thing was plausible; frankly, he didn’t care. All he knew was that when the hologram was lifted from the glass panes of their home, the endless expanse of sky that came in their place—whether it was clear, blue, cloudy, or starry—gave him cause to feel free.  
  
“What do you two think about going out tonight?” 

“Really?” Eren looked at his mother, excitement in his eyes. Having mildly been listening to his mom talk with Mikasa about how his signs were coming, he wasn’t quite sure he’d heard correctly. “But I thought we were going to finish the living room tonight?”  
  
There was little left to do, the Jaeger’s had been in D.C. for well over half a year, but in that time Carla and Grisha had decided to switch the collection of their furniture, prioritizing redecorating and making the cold, bare apartment they’d moved into a home for all four of them. As a result, an array of miscellaneous boxes currently sat stacked in Grisha’s home office; essentially making said “office” little more than storage space.  
  
“Well, I thought maybe you, Mikasa, and I could out and eat some place nice for dinner. How does that sound?” She bopped the end of Eren’s nose, her laughter filling his ears.  
  
Mikasa nodded her agreement, hands full of bread, cereal, and snacks, ready to open the pantry.  
  
“And then, we could go and explore. I know how much you have wanted to look into new patterns and transfer presses for your tea cloths, Mikasa. And Eren, you’ve been itching for a new book, haven’t you?” 

“What about you, Mom?” Eren could hear his voice, how it rose and fluttered at the prospect of what Carla was suggesting. “Is there anything you want?” 

“I don’t know. We’ll have to see.” Her smile affected Eren much in the same way Mikasa’s did. Her happiness captivated him. “We’ll be back before the required broadcasting. Your father doesn’t plan on being home tonight, so it’ll just be us.”

\-- 

Eren had never understood the debates about clean air or waste recycle, being from a small town whose industrialization could be attributed to little more than one Wal-Mart and a Shell gas station, clean air was an afterthought and somewhat of a luxury where he was from. Despite D.C. claiming to have the highest centralization of purifying oxygen reserves, there was always a strange taste on his tongue from the cleansing chemicals used to nuke the pollution and a continuous haze in the lowest parts of the city.

His head rested on his mother’s arm, fingers interlaced with Mikasa’s as they walked the streets of their new home. It was now dark out now, the countless display screens lining the city lit up with television shows and ads from all over the world. It would be nine soon, which was the time for the required broadcast. Eren couldn’t help look up at his mom, wondering if they were headed back home yet; he didn’t mind either way. The plastic from the bag of books he was allowed to get cut into his skin from prolonged exposure, reminding him that he would finally figure out what happened to the hero and his revolution in one series and begin the adventure of a new character in another.  
  
Even Mikasa hummed, having found two patterns of transfer paper—one of turtles and the other of puppies—she finally had use of some thread she was previously afraid would go to waste. Eren liked Mikasa’s tea towels. She could freehand a stitch or pattern any day; but he thought it soothing to watch her as she clicked on the iron to warm, marking measurements as to place the photo right in the middle, smoothing the paper, and finally, running the hot iron over and peeling the sheet away, leaving behind a faint outline in its wake. He could say sewing was something he was loathsome to try, having poked himself enough times to give up altogether when Mikasa or Carla tried to show him; so instead, he chose to watch Mikasa from the side, book in hand. Somehow, he sensed that was just as well. They enjoyed each other’s company, they didn’t have to be speaking or signing to give each other a purpose or reason for wanting to be in the other’s company.  
  
The opening music was now a common occurrence, every night, nine sharp, Ilse Langnar from the Capitol Broadcasting Network would appear on every street monitor, in every home, blare through your radio’s speakers, and even replace the music in your headphones to report the Required Nationwide Broadcast.  
  
“I’ve never seen them broadcast even one minute early,” Mikasa mumbled through her scarf. “Let alone almost an hour early.”  
  
 _Huh_? Eren looked around, seeing the time in the corner of the show read 8:14 p.m. The jingle that signaled the beginning of all newscast airings was now so ingrained in him that it was automatic for him to automatically believe it was 9:00 p.m.; it was almost as if the program was a marker for Eren, it felt right to be assured there was such an order and finality to the time and execution of the broadcast. It felt wrong for it to be any different. Like Mikasa had just said, the government’s approved media station was never early, never late, but always one time. __  
  
“Good evening. This is Ilse Langnar bringing you important local and national news.”  
  
Her voice was so loud, so he barely heard his mother, “Grisha?” 

Eren and Mikasa both looked at Carla, phone to her ear and voicing their father’s name in what was considered a slap in the face of the government; their eyes darting back and forth from her, the people around them staring diligently—and quietly—at the broadcast, and Ilse Langnar herself. Since their father worked for the CDC, they were allowed phones unaffected by the stream, able to receive ingoing and outgoing calls without the device disconnecting. Either way, the family could be severely fined or harassed if the wrong person noticed. 

Eren felt Mikasa’s hand tighten around his, bringing her in closer to his body as he did the same towards his mother. Lagner tried to hide it, really, but her voice exacerbated everything she was attempting to keep under control—her posture was rigid, hair and face disheveled and wound a bit too tight, hands holding each other in attempt to calm her shaking.  
  
“We are bringing this special broadcast a bit early tonight in the hopes of warning the good citizens of the American public. Please, we urge you to find—”

Eren refused to close his eyes, the sting of uncomfortable tears brimming as he heard the screams coming from inside the studio. Ilse Langnar cut off from her words, eyes darting back and forth, moving with the shrill sounds of another human being.   

“There have been reports of strange occurrences—”

“Grisha, what are you saying?” 

“—attacks on the human race by unidentified creatures. It is unknown of the origin, but the danger this threat imposes is innumerable and undeniable. If you are seeing this now, we— _I_ —urge you to hide. Trust no one. Defend yourselves or we as the human race are dead—”  
  
“Eren, Mikasa!”  
  
Eren was being dragged, his mother tightly gripping his wrist as his neck craned behind him, still focusing on the broadcast no one else had the right mind to run away from.  
  
He saw her mouth still moving, words like “outbreak” and “fever” and “flesh” and “the dead” ringing clear, while the rest jumbled and made no sense. Before the broadcast was cut, there was a deep, throaty roar that did little in scaring Ilse Langnar; instead, she looked past the lens, as if whatever had made the awful sound stood just behind the view of the camera, and relieved a sigh of complete resignation. She’d accomplished what she set out to do. 

“Eren!”  
  
He snapped back, Mikasa’s voice demanding him to reality. The streets were mad with murmurs, no one moving except for Carla and the two children. She’d hung up her cell phone, dropping it on the street as she picked up her pace. A woman’s scream could be heard from behind them. Then another. And another. It continued like that, as if chasing the family as they attempted to go faster and faster, cutting through the confused crowd.

\--  
  
“Mom, you’re scaring us.” 

Eren still gripped the plastic Barnes and Noble bag, finding it to be the most comforting thing other than the heat of his sister as she stayed near him.  
  
“Oh, baby,” Carla cooed softly, taking the smallest moment to try and settle the two down. “There is no need to be scared. Everything is going to be just fine.” Kneeling down before them, it was apparent she didn’t believe one word coming from her mouth. 

“Where’s Dad?” Mikasa asked quietly, noticing the three oversized packs Carla had drug out from their living room closet.  
  
Even from this far up, standing so close to the clear windows, it was hard to ignore the flashes of red and blue—police?—throughout the streets below; smoke pillowing up, up, up. How long had it been since the broadcast? Surely there hadn’t been enough time for such clear signs of distress.  
  
The translucent windows flickered, a different news logo popping up before giving way to a new transmission. The headline spanning the bottom of the program reading: _Capitol Government Newsroom Attacked: Supreme Court Approved Journalist Ilse Langnar Rushed to Hospital After Being Forced To Air False Broadcast_. 

“Tonight at approximately 8:16 p.m. the beloved and talented Ms. Ilse Langnar was the victim of a horrific assault that took place in front of our nation during an airing of the government mandated Capitol Broadcast.”  
  
“I’ve never seen him before.” Eren mumbled, watching as the broad shouldered man cleared his throat to continue. 

“Ms. Lagner has been injured and is currently en route to a hospital. It appears as if she and many employees of the renowned news station were taken hostage, propagandists forcing the journalist to relay senseless jargon to the American public. We are awaiting more information about the incident, but have been told by authorities that tonight’s actions are being seriously considered and an investigation is under way.”

Eren couldn’t help prevent the way his skin prickled as he saw the curious way the news anchor curled his lips upward, the smile doing nothing to calm the impending sense of disaster ever-growing in Eren’s gut. The smile was perplexing. Wrong. 

“I am Braun from the Capitol Broadcast Newsroom in Washington D.C., have a pleasant—”

“Oh God.” Carla grabbed the packs, handing one each to Eren and Mikasa. “He was right. He was right.” Her voice was a compound of variant fears. Dread. Anxiety. Worry. All of them exactly the same and completely different, simultaneously and mercilessly making themselves known. “To the back, now!”  
  
“But the man said—”  
  
They went through the laundry room, Mikasa following her adopted mother without question, Eren letting his bewilderment and fright get the best of him. Still, Carla let him ask, whipping his head back and forth; from his mother, back to the unfamiliar news station, from his mama, and then back again towards the broad-shouldered blonde man with the incomprehensible smile on his face. 

“I don’t understand!” He finally yelled. 

Carla walked her index and forefinger across the wall, counting, “One, two, three, four, five, six … _seven_. There.” She’d found what she was looking for, laying her hand flat on the surface where the number seven had stopped her. Eren watched as a soft blue light illuminated, outlining the shape of her hand as it lay flat against the flowery wallpaper.   

Stepping to the side, Eren and Mikasa couldn’t help but take a step back as the solid wall gave way, sliding open to reveal a hidden room on the other side. Carla ushered the two siblings in before she dared go in herself.

The room looked like one of those infomercial panic rooms that had recently been becoming more and more popular. Unlike those small rooms, however, make shifted to keep you away from home invaders or any type of immediate danger, the room they were in now was the size of their kitchen and living area combined. There was a small bathroom, running water, and lighting; there were cupboards full of toilititries and dried and canned food, shelves of varying weapons; four bunk beds lined the back wall.

“No one will get you here, do you understand me?”  
  
“But, Mom,” Eren turned, unable to keep from clutching the fabric of her sweater in desperate want of comfort. “The man said the lady was fine. That we’re all ok.” He finally said it all. How could this be bad? Why were his thoughts so clouded and lost? “If she was forced to do the broadcast, whatever she was talking about finding some place safe, about—about—everything is ok, isn’t it?”  
  
A soft smile upturned his mother’s lips. Kind and loving, it was a far cry from the unidentifiable turn of lip Eren had seen from the male anchor. Bending down, she kissed his forehead, giving him the sense of ease he was craving.  
  
“Mikasa,” she called, extending her hand for the young girl to hold onto. “You two are so brave, you know that?”  
  
She hugged them close, hands pressed tightly into their backs as if she would never let go. Eren didn’t know why, but he had begun to cry. He didn’t feel very brave.  
  
“No matter what, you live. You hear me?” She smiled at the feel of both their heads nodding in her waist and abdomen. Already, they were growing so big. “You stay alive!” 

It was then that they felt a strange rumble from below. 

“Ok, ok,” it was a plea from Carla to herself, pulling the children back from her so they could see her face. “I am going to be right back.”  
  
“No.” Both Eren and Mikasa couldn’t help it, reaching out as if their combined strength, or maybe sheer force of will, could keep her there.  
  
Eren remembered the roar. The smoke. The way the people acted. And again, the man’s smile when he said there was nothing to worry about.  
  
The door slid open once more, Eren and Mikasa at the edge of staying or going. Carla’s eyes willed them to keep their toes behind the line, a loving hand cupping the cheek of her beautiful daughter and a light pinch of an ear, riling her handsome son. 

“I love you, you hear?” 

They nodded.  
  
“I’ll be right back.”  
  
The door shut, the locking mechanism a small click and nothing more.  
  
She never came back. 

\-- 

Neither of them was sure how long it had been when he finally came. Days, weeks, months, _years_ —Eren wasn’t quite sure, though, years seemed a bit of an exaggeration. Neither he or Mikasa touched the packs their mother had left, generous rations stacked in the cabinets of the enclosed living space enough to keep them satisfied when they were brave enough to ruffle the foil of a packet or the rile the plastic of a bag.

Mostly, they sat in the dark, huddled within the deepest corner of the bottom bunk. The way the floor shook in inconsistently consistent patterns was unnerving, at one point Eren—days after his mother had left he and Mikasa—was sure someone had been inside their home, muted breaks of glass and frustrated growls enough to have him tiptoe and turn the lights off. He’d seen no crack at the floorboard where he knew the door to be, but he wasn’t one for chances. Looking at Mikasa, he knew the downturn of his eyes expressed his apologies; nonetheless, before he seized them in total darkness, he signed, “ _Lights off. But I am here._ ” 

After that, they simply stayed close. Never moving, barely breathing, the two of them simply sat with each other. Too afraid to speak, the black of the room too stark to even see the other’s outline, Mikasa fingerspelled in the palm of his hand.  
  
“ _L-E-A-V-E,”_ she started, _“W-H-E-N?”_  

Eren couldn’t help the fear rising in his chest, disguised as bile and sick, at Mikasa’s question. 

He made sure she was finished before gently taking hold of her wrist, his fingers feeling for the whole of her palm, and formed the letters, “ _H-O-W_? _S-O S-C-A-R-E-D_.”  
  
She let out a small gasp in understanding, an accomplishment of such epic proportions Eren envied her. He was too afraid to even think of speaking, whispering, or give any hint he had a voice at all. Even when she knelt closer, bringing their foreheads together much in the way his mom had before she disappeared, he simply released a shallow breath; his shoulders relaxing at the cold tip of her nose brushing against his. She wrapped her arms around his abdomen, fastening her fingers together in the back, telling him they no longer had to talk about it. He understood, reciprocating familiar actions as he pulled her into him, stopping only when they were practically molded together.  
  
Eren wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, his stomach expanding as he exhaled, the contours of his body pushing against hers as she inhaled; a steady, comfortable rhythm of harmonic breaths. While one breathed in, the other breathed out. The only indication that either he or Mikasa heard the faint splintering of their front door was in how Eren’s nails dug into the backs of Mikasa’s shoulder blades in reply to the small holes she ripped into the fabric of his t-shirt, nails bared and marking his mid back in the process. Yet, neither moved, listening together as they heard an array of swears and boots stomping down on their hardwood floors; Mikasa did not whimper as she realized the clomping became louder, not fainter, as the footsteps came closer, Eren did not scream as the voice chimed “Bingo!” before counting, “One, two, three, four, five, six, _seven_.”  
  
Somehow, Eren hadn’t expected the light that poured into the room. His green eyes unable to focus, blinking as he tried to make out the face standing in the opening. He kept Mikasa close, moving his hand to rest at the back of her head, urging her to not look just yet.  
  
“Eren, Mikasa!”  
  
That voice …  
  
“Hannes?” Eren asked, his blurred vision slowly coming back into focus, adjusting to the light a lot less easily than he’d hoped. The voice was where he felt a burn of recognition; no longer muffled behind the thick layers of sheetrock and concrete, Eren hadn’t cared to see if the new intruder was someone he and Mikasa knew. If he was being honest, hope in such good fortune had easily been dashed from either of their minds.  
  
“Oh, thank God!” There was a startled cry of relief that vibrated from the man. Eren watched as he sheathed what looked to be a sword and ran towards the two lying together on the bed. His arms reached around both Eren and Mikasa, sobs wracking his body in grief and happiness, both emotions cutting him raw. 

Hannes had been the one to convince his father to take the job here; he worked at Andrews Air Force Base and had a prestigious rank in the military branch he served. Eren and Mikasa listened to many censored stories of his travels. The man never knew when he would be called to arms, where he would be going until he was briefed on the plan, nor did he know how long he would stay. Carla used to laugh and laugh, always joking with him that the ringtone in her phone for him was “Secret Agent Man” because his job took him to the most exotic and wonderful places; yet, though he could typically tell where he was (once he found out), he was never allowed to disclose the reason as to why he was, in fact, there.  
  
Hannes was quick to yank them up, however, having them look at him. He grabbed each of their faces, pulling up to inspect their gums and pointing a small flashlight from his pocket at their eyelids; he gave no preamble as he inspected Eren’s body, lifting up the boy’s arms sleeves, inspecting his back, belly, and legs, Hannes’s fingertips pushing hard up and down his person. He did the same with Mikasa. Only when he was done did he say anything, and that was only a sigh. 

“Thank God,” he said again, a different meaning filling those same words as he put away the small flashlight in the jeans pocket from whence it came.

“Hannes, what is—” It was only then that he saw how completely beat the man looked. His face was sunken from stress and fatigue, his hair disheveled and the usual half-assed mustache that adorned his upper lip was well into the earliest stages of becoming a beard. Eren couldn’t help the overview, looking him up and down, his eyes growing wider and more puzzled by each inch of bloodied and ripped clothing that dressed one of their mother and father’s best friends.  
  
Eren found it somewhat comforting when he ruffled the top of his head, messing up his already greasy hair.  
  
“Are you ready to leave?” He asked, looking first at Mikasa and then Eren.  
  
“But—” He stopped, teeth catching the tip of his tongue as he was about to ask, once again, what was going on. Had he been asking that too much? The question was enough to lead Eren in forming another and then another and so on; either way, he wasn’t quite able to shake whether or not he was being childish. Mikasa stood enduring, ever Eren’s opposite, quietly observing and speaking only when she felt necessary. She didn’t lose her temper or voice her qualms quite as loudly as Eren did; he envied that sometimes, her composure was desirable in the moments he was unable to rid himself of the constriction in his chest. The feeling of absolute helplessness didn’t sit well with him, it made him sick and queasy and he was hard pressed to shut up about if it got to be too much. Still, “What about Mom? What about Dad? What’s happening?” 

“In due time, kid. Due time.” Hannes looked around the room, eyes betraying nothing as he walked towards a bare piece of the room’s stark white wall. This time, there were no numbers that fled from his mouth, just a simple press of a button that had previously gone unnoticed and an array of weapons and ammo were revealed. Eren walked forward, not caring about the hidden arsenal, leaving Hannes and Mikasa for the outside of the room that had been their holding cell for what felt like ages. 

He really wished he hadn’t.  
  
The windows were still clear, no one having ever changed them out for a different pattern or change of scenery since that night. Instead, the city surrounded Eren on three sides, and it was burning to the ground.  
  
“What’s happening?” That damn question again. He felt himself press up against the glass, asking himself this time in hopes maybe, just maybe, an answer would finally appear out of thin air. It was so bright outside and the sky would have been a crisp spread of uninterrupted blue had it not been for the billowing clouds of smoke and ash climbing high in a haze over the fallen metropolis. 

Eren dared himself to turn around, to look and see if anything had changed inside.  
  
Another regretful decision.  
  
The new couch that had been delivered upon their arrival to D.C. was slashed open, the fuzzy insides strewn every which way, white dotting the surrounding perimeter; his mother’s collection of elephants—her shelf of figurines—were smashed to bits, the sharp edges of the differing materials they were made out of riddling the floor. He made his way back, passing his parents bedroom, he saw Mikasa’s ASL flash cards thrown from the box, her sewing kit and tea towels ripped to ribbons; and then to his room, which had been undeniably trashed. His books were torn apart, pages ripped out and then torn again; much like confetti at a child’s birthday party, white flecks decorated everything. It seemed a pointless battering of the family’s personal belongings, and it became more than apparent he and Mikasa weren’t imagining the sound of intruders behind the hidden walls of the panic room. Whoever had done this had taken the most important parts of his life, his mother’s life, Mikasa’s life, even his father’s life … and thoroughly made sure to ruin it.

Still, he picked up each of the flash cards he could find; satisfied to see the box that held them was full when he was finished. He grabbed a bag, listening to sounds of Mikasa and Hannes in the front of the apartment, and packed a few belongings for himself and his sister; all the while, he swallowed past the lump in his throat. 

\--

 _Military Research Lab, Location Unknown_  

 _Eren ignored the blood when it was finally time to leave the apartment. They lived high up, living in what his father called a penthouse deluxe; the entire top floor was the Jaeger’s home._  
  
All the time Eren had spent in that godforsaken secret room had him sure of only one thing, that Mikasa was now his home. He remained close to her, the act and feeling of intertwining his fingers with hers becoming second nature, an immeasurable comfort no one or nothing could match. When Hannes opened the stairwell door, a silenced pistol gripped firmly in his hand, it only furthered Eren’s remembrance of the devastation outside. The orange of EXIT loomed over the siblings as the door clicked shut, leaving them alone in their private hallway for less than half a minute before he came back out.  
  
“All clear,” he verified, as if both kids knew what he was talking about. “Up.” He pointed his finger as if to reestablish the meaning of the word. “Got a heli waiting on us.”

 

He’d learned that he and Mikasa had been trapped in their apartment for nearly eleven days. Hannes had received a call from Grisha pleading for his help; it had taken nearly four days for Hannes to realize he would have to find a way in from the top of their building. The countless floors below them had too many people, too many _things_ , for it to be safe.  
  
“Things?” Mikasa’s voice was the one questioning now, the explanation seemingly less than enough for her satisfaction. 

Eren was sure he’d resigned himself to a fate of unanswered bullshit, somehow giving up entirely on receiving anything that quenched his utter confusion. They were in some kind of underground research facility and bunker—military, no doubt—and they were undeniably hiding from something. He thought back towards the clouds of dark grey smoke, the way their apartment had been torn apart as if someone couldn’t find what they were looking for …  
  
The sigh that left his body shook him with intense force, almost convincing him that was the first real release of oxygen he’d had in days.  
  
What had Hannes been looking for in the stairwells? Why were they in a military bunker? Where was his mother? Dad? Why did everyone have these awful looks on their faces?  
  
They were just children. No one wanted them to know the world had fallen apart. 

“Is it just here?” Eren finally asked, “Or everywhere?”  
  
He raised himself into a sitting position, automatically scooting closer to Mikasa until their thighs touched, Hannes staring at him like he shouldn’t answer.  
  
“You won’t even let us watch television.” Eren released, sounding somehow listless and indignant at the same time. Really, he figured, he was just tired. “What about the mandatory broadcasts? Ilse Langnar? What the hell is going on? Where is Dad? What—” _There it is_ , he thought, a hot sting blurring his sight. “ _Mama_.” He simply whispered, feeling the strain of his closed fists as he balled them tighter and tighter in increasing anger, maybe not so indifferent after all. 

“Your father is on his way. He was in Langley when everything happened. Transportation is being highly restricted at the moment, but there are arrangements to have him by weeks end. Eren, Mikasa … I want him to be the one to explain things to you.” 

Eren rested his head on Mikasa’s shoulder, vying for consolation. He felt the thick fabric of her deep red scarf and, despite himself, chuckling at how odd the maroon looked with the light pink of her cardigan. He pulled at the frayed ends, watching the string bounce back up as he let go. Somehow, that was enough for him to close his eyes and … drift.  
  
\--

Present Day, Year 845: _Downtown Valencia District_

“You can’t keep doing that to us, Eren!” The door to their small apartment slammed shut, shaking the rafters in response to Mikasa taking no care in keeping quiet.

“Hey, just because you look older than me now doesn’t mean you can boss me around like that.” Eren’s mouth formed a silent ‘oh’, quickly realizing he would have no part in cheering his sister up; in fact, his small comment had done the exact opposite. His shoulders slumped, defeated, “Listen, I—I’m sorry.”  

“No,” she shook her head. “Not good enough. I swear you can be such an incessant child sometimes!” She paced, hands on both sides of her head as her thoughts ran a bit frantic. What good would scolding him do? “You need to feed  _tonight_.”   
   
“Fuck.” Unable to keep his small slip of irritation out of his voice,Eren pulled his hood down, his hair brushing over his eyes, no longer needing to shield his face. “But—” His sister wore a look that made him bite his lip in apprehension; she was daring him to fight her like she knew he wanted. He felt another sigh rise within him, knowing that whatever protest left his mouth, it would never be good enough for Mikasa. He’d been pushing his luck with their safety—with her, period—and there was no excuse. “I should be able to get a decent hunt when the MP’s are in between shifts or breaking.”  
   
The deep rise and fall of Mikasa’s chest was indicative of her trying to control her reaction, not wanting to lash out towards Eren in a way she would regret. City officials were one thing, but the dark, navy blue they’d encountered? 

“We could have fought them.” He lightly suggested, though, Mikasa heard the seriousness in his words.  
   
“And then what?” She barked, the volume of her question not muffled by the red scarf she kept covering her mouth. “I swear to—”  
  
 _So it had been a stupid thing to say_. He knew it. He just … he just what?  
  
“There was _Legion_  there, Eren. Why—” She stopped herself, her throat choking as her anger threatened to brim over.   

“Mika—”   

“No, it’s fine.” Her hand moving to touch the worn fabric around her neck, she finally pulled it down. “Tonight. I’ll go with you.”   
   
“Ok, now you’re just trying to piss me off. I know this doesn’t count for much, but trust me?”It was the most ridiculous fucking thing to ask of her, he knew that. The doubtful look on her face told him as much. “Once I feed, you know I’ll be fine. I’ll keep to the rooftops, I’ll use the gear we stole from those bounty hunter asswipes.”  

His sister contemplated continuing, arguing until she got her way. Eren’s resolve was unwavering to a fault; it was also one of the things Mikasa both loved and hated about him. His passion was endearing, but his temper was not. When he didn’t feed, his determination turned him into someone that was quick to anger and easily vexed; he acted on pure, base instinct. The calm, conscious mind he had attuned over the years falling away in an instant and instead, all he wanted to do was fight, fuck, and bleed. He’d curbed his appetite when they pushed their way through Kyoto, able to steal a small amount of sustenance from the convoy's smuggled cargo. But that hadn’t been enough, not by a long shot. 

“We’ve been here for a month. I’m sure the smell of you has already made the bastards flee the tunnels and shy away from the outside.” There had been a noticeable difference in all Aberrant activity, the outside becoming quieter in the wake of Eren’s presence. During the day when Mikasa had walked around Stohess, she wasted no time, taking to the streets, listening to the talk of the citizens. Even the newspaper and military had noted the drop in sightings and noise, going so far as to call it peaceful. What fools they were. “And you cannot survive eating raw meat for much longer.” 

Eren watched as she thought, figuring she would at the very least have her say if she weren’t allowed to come with him. He wasn’t wrong. 

“Do you think the dens still exist?” She whispered, asking her brother a question that carried a heavily burdened answer. 

Unwanted perspiration overwhelmed Eren at what his sister was suggesting. It was plausible … practical, even; but it disgusted him. 

“You’re telling me to eat a fetish club’s inventory?”  

“The Capitol has always had warped sensibilities.”   

He started to argue once again, to scream at her for what she was asking him to do; but it wasn’t up for debate, Mikasa’s face a familiar scowl Eren had become overly acquainted with in their long time together. Boring into him, she dared him to object.  

“Fine.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! Thank you for the support and the comments/kudos. You guys are awesome. Next chapter will most likely be differing POV's. Things begin to converge, people come together ... 
> 
> Sign language is difficult to describe and write. Sheesh.
> 
> As a side note, I did want to say that as well that there will probably be a few OC's within this fic. I tend to do that when I write. It won't be too much a distraction or hindrance. Just a few people to push forward the plot, like the Collector Ballot.


	5. Wake the Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Though I can say I am glad I didn’t kill you, it is kind of a letdown you didn’t pin me against that wall to fuck me like you did the last time.” 
> 
> Levi’s head hit the hard stone path of the alley, bouncing before fingers grabbed his hair as the man straddled him from above, smacking his skull in the hard ground two more times before bringing his face closer to his own. 
> 
> “Or wait, I guess it was me that fucked you, wasn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took some thinking, but I figured this chapter out. Thank you for continuing to read. It means a lot to me. OH, and for those of you who asked about Armin, well, this chapter is his introduction. Enjoy!

The infirmary was a place Levi was loath to willingly visit; typically, he asked Hange to stitch him up or check for any dire wounds he’d sustained during confrontations. So when he awoke and felt a strange blur to his thoughts, saw the blinding white of the ceiling, and felt his hand being crushed by another person, he couldn’t stave off the overwhelming feeling that made him want to get the fuck out of there.  
  
He looked towards the woman he knew would be there, a mess of brown hair atop her head and a ruffled navy blue cloak draped over her shoulders to keep warm, the Scout’s insignia on the back. Her head resting on the side of his bed, he hadn’t been lying to himself as her hand gripped his own.  

“Good.” She was alive.

Hange stirred, lifting her head as if she hadn’t truly been sleeping at all. Levi watched as relief not only showed on her face, but took over her entire body. From the top of her head to the tips of her toes, she visibly relaxed, as if the one thing she had been willing to happen finally did. 

Levi was awake. Levi was alive.

“Welcome back, champ.” She sounded exhausted.

“What happened?” Levi tried to think back, but felt himself hitting a partition of drug-fueled haze and a migraine to go with it, crippling him from the effort. “God, I can fucking _feel_ the drugs in me.” His free hand moved to rest on his forehead, his body on fire from the morphine drip hanging at his bedside. Closing his eyes, he prodded the fuzzed edges of his memory--Chesterfield, music, green, an unsettling silver ringing the pupil of a mismatched eye, blood, … _his_ blood.

“Levi, I thought I’d lost you.”  
  
Levi peeked an eye open at the interruption, turning his gaze down, he found it hard to look into his partner’s eyes. A seriousness resided there he did not like, oozing in the same likeness and intensity her usual cheerful, loud-mouthed self would give off. She was never in the middle, was she? Always all or nothing, no in between. The glass half-empty did not suit her.

“Hang,” his voice was scolding, told between narrowed eyes, “You best get your ridiculous shit eating grin I hate so much back onto your face before I get out of this bed and wring your neck.”  
  
It took a moment and Levi squeezing her hand in reassurance to have her cricking those pearly whites.  
  
“Right!” There it was, a smile. “First, though,” she turned towards his bedside table, getting ready to tell him something, “You’re going to want water. I bet that morphine has given you some major cotton mouth.”  
  
He didn’t disagree.  
  
“I assume you want to hear what happened?” Hange finally asked after he’d downed his fourth cup of water, handing him his fifth the water was already almost gone by the time she finished her question.  
  
Levi simply nodded, feeling a trail of water leak out the side of his mouth and down his chin. Pulling the now empty cup away, he lazily handed it back to his friend, silently asking for more and wiping the wasted water away with the sleeve of his hospital gown.  
  
“Wait—” He started, the scratchy cloth having jolted him from keeping quiet. “What about my clothes?”

“Oh, sweetie.”  
  
He didn’t even try to stop the groan at the knowing lilt that swallowed Hinge’s voice.

“They didn’t,” he continued, grumbling anger.  
  
“I know you have plenty of uniform-appropriate attire and enough Survey Corps jackets to last a lifetime, but the rest was all cut off when they took you in. You’ll have to be fitted for a new harness and Erwin will probably make you get new boots.”  
  
“They cut my fucking boots off?”  
  
Hange shrugged, “Well, whatever they did with them they aren’t here any longer.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. Getting fitted for harnessing material the first time was bad enough.”  
  
“I wouldn’t complain about being fitted—just imagine having to break them babies in!”

“Shit!” Levi didn’t even try to hide the incredulous look that very well could have had his eyeballs popping from their sockets, he hadn’t even given that line of thought any indulgence. Another groan, loud, prolonged, and absolutely pissed vibrated his vocal cords. “ _Hang_ , I cannot—how can I?—what am I?” 

At least his rare bout of expression was giving her a good laugh. Levi peeked through his fingers, watching as she held her stomach in amusement; such a sight made him fully believe his Hange was back in his presence.  
  
Levi’s harness was old, the same he’d been paired with his first day in the Corps; and he remembered—with painfully vivid fucking imagery—the day after his first run-through on the practice course. The waddle back to his bunk had been painful enough, his raw skin blistering under the continuous rub of the leather; he had barely been able to put anything back on after stripping his uniform, foregoing even the thought of any undergarments in attempt to lessen his suffering. It had been years since then; his legs, arms, back, feet, and waist unforgivingly marked, calloused, and scarred from the near constant friction and pressure from the material. Now, it acted as a second skin … comfortable, right. The few times he’d snapped a strap or if it needed a certain extent of care he couldn’t provide, Petra would sew it up, eventually teaching Levi himself how to safely repair it.  
  
“Son of a bitch.”  
  
“You know, you whine an awful lot when you’re hurt.” Another cup was handed to him. “Take that one a bit more slowly.”  
  
“Mm.” At her comment, he felt himself assessing his body, up until that point having been cautious to really move, he felt himself out. “I actually don’t feel too awful.”

Hange sat back down, giving her friend a more concerned look than before.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
Now she sighed, every tense muscle within her body that had relaxed at his open eyes returning.  
  
“Come on,” he pushed.  
  
“Levi.” It was a warning. Don’t dig any further. Leave it alone.  
  
“What the fuck, four-eyes?” She actually pursed her lips together at his attempt to raise a reaction from her. No irritating cackle. She didn’t smile. No, she just looked. “What’s your malfunction? Even my shitty nickname for you didn’t make you bitch back at me?”  
  
“What do you remember?”  
  
Levi, of course, recognized her interest, the flash of her age-old inquisitiveness getting the better of her when all she really wished was to remain quiet.  
  
“It’s in pieces,” he sighed the confession. Even as I said it, I tried squeezing my eyes shut to put everything together. “But it is there.”  
  
Hange nodded, resting her elbow back on the side of Levi’s bed, head in hand.  
  
“Levi, I thought I’d lost you.” 

“God, Hang, what did you see?”

She was shaking her head back and forth, “Hell, I don’t even know myself.”

“I remember … reaching for you.” Levi’s hand touched his chest and abdomen, but whatever he had expected to find was not there. His entire body felt like a furnace from the drugs, but his torso was somehow even hotter. It was an odd sensation, one he could not accurately describe to himself, let alone out loud.

He noticed Hange observing his actions, no doubt seeing the confusion muddy his vision. The worry harshly drawing her brow downward, the V-shape was slowly giving way to the curiosity-laden woman he knew—an overbearing, enthusiastically driven scientist and physician who wanted nothing more than to peel back the layers of the world she lived in.

“Hey,” Levi’s voice was low, kind. “There she is.” Much to her surprise, he leaned forward, flicking the middle of her forehead in the same way she had done to him countless times before.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she let out an exasperated breath, leaning back in her chair. “I was just …” She stopped, thinking about her words, “I thought you were gone. Levi, I was sure you were dead.”  
  
He gave Hange a good snort, “Is that what has you so worked up?”  
  
She didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at him.  
  
“Jesus Christ, Hang, answer me. Look, I am right here.” Somehow, she failed to look convinced. He asked again, “What did you see?”  
  
Hange was rubbing her hands over her face, shaking her head back and forth; Levi could tell she was trying to convince herself to say anything but what he was asking. The one person who chewed him a new asshole if he referred to an Aberrant as nothing more than “it”, or yelled and screamed because of a new expedition taking place outside the walls—this was not her, this was not the same woman.  
  
Levi realized she had truly been afraid of losing him.  
  
“Levi,” she leaned closer, actually taking his hand in hers once again, “I swear to you—” Another breath, unsure eyes, and when she spoke again, her voice was in a whisper, as if she were afraid someone would hear her. “Levi,” she kept saying his name, a reaffirmation that if it was answered, he was truly there and in front of her, alive, “you _were_ dead. We had a good ten minutes before the MP brigade showed up and you were—you were a fucking corpse for a good seven of those minutes.”

“Wha—”

“And then, suddenly, you lit up like an inferno. Your body felt like it was on fire and, then, you breathed. This deep, sharp intake of oxygen and …” She held her hands out to him, “Look.”  
  
Levi was searching her eyes for the lie, searching back and forth to her left and right, studying her body language and then when that got him nowhere, he listened to her command.  
  
“Fuck.” He was sure he spoke through a gulp in his throat. “Hange.” He carefully held her overturned hands in the palm of his own, a chaotic tangle knotting any attempt to make a cohesive thought at the burns her hands exhibited. “Why don’t you have these bandaged?” He scolded, overcoming the urge to pop one of her damn blisters to teach her a lesson.  
  
“You’ve been out for a couple days. It was time to try and air them out.”

Levi didn’t release his hold, carefully looking at the damage he’d apparently inflicted. He had no explanation for it. There wasn’t even the beginning of an idea he could thread onto that would lead him somewhere even minorley conclusive; it was all bullshit at this point.

So instead, he merely said the most obvious thing to present itself in the moment, “I’m burning up right now.”  
  
Hange nodded in agreement, “I know. I’m sure the morphine isn’t helping, but you haven’t cooled down since. Your abdomen and chest—where you were the most extensively injured—are also where the concentration of heat is its most aggressive.”

He noticed she still spoke in a quiet voice, though it was not a whisper, the words were meant only for the two of them.  
  
“I take it you told no one.”  
  
“You assume right. And I suppose you’ve already figured out you endure no lasting injuries from your attack, let alone ones that could have possibly threatened your life.”  
  
Levi said nothing, opting instead to gently rest her hands on his bed. Resting back onto his pillow, he again felt where he remembered a different kind of burn, the kind of heat that comes with the mutilation of flesh.  
  
“Hange what do you think he was?” Levi ran his hand through his hair, slightly grimacing at the oil left to rub between his fingertips afterwards. “And how are you not hurt?” 

“I can only speculate that he portrayed you as a threat, one needed to be killed in order to live. While I simply needed to be dealt with quickly and efficiently--he knocked me out long enough to get away.”  
  
Levi listened, irritated that he’d left Hange alone.

  
“He took the tunnels out.” She finished, but there was hardly assumption in her statement.  
  
“How do you know?”  
  
“Pretty much an identical scene at the Caplan house three doors down. It looks like he— _it_ —came up from the houses own underground quarters and walked out right through their front door; but not before killing the damn dinner party they were having.”

“Shit.”

“You were all that mattered. I’m—I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologize!” It was an exclamation in how darkly cut the words were, he dared her to protest. “I would have done the same.”  
  
“I don’t know about that, Corporal.”

Levi watched her never shrink under the tapering slant of his eyes. She did so meet his dare, as she always did, challenging the man he wished he were as opposed to the legend people rightly attributed to him. Levi was a hard man, and if he would have assessed Hange was dead, he wouldn’t have waited or held her like she did him, he would have went after the bastard who’d killed her. He would not have taken the time to mourn. In some ways, that made her a hell of a lot stronger than he ever could be.

 Swallowing, he did his best to ignore the thought.  
  
“Hang, you looked at the bodies right? Investigated the scene?”  
  
She nodded.  
  
“What’s you assessment? The correlation between their deaths and the man who attacked both you and I?”  
  
“Um, hello?”

He and Hange sat in a semi-private room, the other bed empty and the door half-open. Levi had been grateful for the privacy, figuring the only people who would check in on him would be Hange or Erwin; but the voice that shyly greeted them was that of a stranger. A small knock on the door and a timid murmur was enough to penetrate their small bubble of a conversation, neither wanting anyone else to overhear.  
  
“Yes?” 

“Hi,” he smiled, more confidence filling his second greeting.  
  
Levi looked the man up and down, seeing nothing too out of the ordinary with him. He looked unkempt, as if he had been travelling for some time and hadn’t the occasion to smooth wrinkles from his shirt, let alone tuck it in. He held a nervous hand up, running his fingers through long, yellow blonde hair; blue eyes as big as full moons stared at the two Scouting veterans.  
  
“You are Section Commander Zoe Hange and Captain Levi, correct?”  
  
“Depends on who’s asking, kid.”  
  
“Oh, excuse me.” He walked a bit closer, shyly entering and approaching the two. “Please, call me Isaac.” There was a slight pitch in the young mans voice when he gave his name, his hand extending to Hange and then Levi as he quickly recovered. “I was pointed in this direction by a Niles Dawk—”  
  
Levi couldn’t help the very audible snort that came from hearing that prick’s name, unintentionally interrupting Isaac’s reasoning for being in his company.  
  
“Uh, yes, well, I was curious if you had any information about a business colleague of mine?”  
  
Hange stood up, ready to take the young man out of the room and away from Levi.  
  
“Hange, it’s fine.” He waited for her stop, watching as she instead leaned against the wall, waiting instead to hear what this person had to say in ways of conversation and information. Levi was sure she had gathered as much, if not more, than he had from the man’s speech and appearance. His accent matched up with the Eastern Territories, but had the modulation commonly found in an outside village much like the one Levi had come from. “Who’s this colleague of yours?”

“Fredrick Ballot. I heard he was staying in this hospital and that you two were the first on scene during the breach on the southernmost gate.”

Levi kept his face neutral, “Considering none of the citizens in this damn prison know about that piece of information you just spouted off to me and my partner here, mind telling us why you’d be stupid enough to bring it up?”

Well, at least Levi was intimidating enough to receive a seemingly surprised reaction from the blonde. He backed up from the head of Levi’s bed, chancing a glance at Hange (which left him in no better a position). Still, Levi wasn’t quite convinced that wasn’t an act either.  
  
“Ballot is a bounty hunter who worked in unison with the same traders who were killed in the attack. Although I was reluctant to have him as an associate, he was transporting goods of mine. As such, I was contacted by the Military Police who inquired about the transportation ledger; apparently, I lost all my product.”  
  
“Sorry to hear that.” Levi thought he might as well keep up with the pleasantries.

“And, sir,” he gave an astute smile, “Knowing such things is required of the duties necessary in my line of work.”

“Hm.” Levi knew about as much as he needed, cocking his head slightly to the side in suspicion. “Well played.”

“May I ask, do you think he will survive?” 

Hange interjected, “He should, yes. In fact,” she looked at Levi, no addressing him. “He did wake while you were under. He is under close watch, being monitored for fever and, while he was awake, he was somewhat delirious. We expected as much, but it’s a good sign—means he is still conscious and hasn’t descended into the Change. God knows if he’ll ever speak properly again, but if he can communicate we should be able to get some answers about what happened at Kyoto.” 

“And you, Captain?” Isaac’s face was inquisitive and concerned, his hands holding each other at his front.

“What about me?” 

“I know the Survey Corps hasn’t been on an expedition or had any outstanding patrols since the gate, and I assume you aren’t here for a checkup. You were injured, yes?” He pointed an index finger to his forehead, indicating a cut that marred Levi’s own.  
  
 _Well, at least he doesn’t fuck around, does he?_

“I was.” Levi responded curtly, simply.  
  
“I see. I’m glad you’re ok. Did you catch them?”  
  
Every word he spoke was carefully chosen. He used no identifying pronouns as to not sound suspicious; he was kind, a gentleman, even; he acted nervous when in reality his eyes were sure, ready.

 _Reminds me of Erwin_.  
  
“No.”

“Do you remember anything?”

“I do not. We were assisting on a house call. Thing’s escalated more so than we predicted. I should have been more prepared.” He seemed almost satisfied with Levi’s answer. “What’d you say your name was again?”

“Isaac, sir." 

“Isaac?”

“Just Isaac.” 

“Just Isaac.” He’d searched about as far as he could for a last name. Even if it would have done enough to outwardly trip the man up, Levi figured it would do him no good in the long run. 

“Hange,” he looked to his partner, a manufactured helpfulness that she easily recognized tinting his speech, “Be so kind as to take Isaac here to see his good friend Ballot. Afterwards, patch those hands of yours up—because I’ll be damned if you come anywhere near me with them—and come back here. I need to discuss some rotation plans with you.”  
  
“Yes, Corporal.” 

He waited for her to leave with Isaac (yeah, right) before he tried getting out of bed.  
  
“Jesus fucking—”  
  
 _What the hell is that?_

There had been no exaggeration in Hange’s description of the heat his body was producing, the places where he’d sustained serious injury a good five-to-ten degrees hotter than the rest of him. Beneath, he felt a strange sensation. As if something were mending back together— _growing_ , _fixing_ , _healing_. For yet another time, he clutched at his chest and stomach, trying to will the right answer by touch alone. He didn’t understand. Hange’s words weren’t helping.  
  
“Did I die?” Levi’s eyes widened, surprised he’d even said it aloud.  
  
He pulled the needle out of his arm, wanting to rip his fucking teeth out as he did so; looking around, assessing his body further, he knew there was nothing seriously wrong with him. Sore, yes, but he could walk. He could think clearly.  
  
Levi left Hange a message—coded, something only she would understand—and almost felt bad for not thanking her for having a change of clothes waiting for him. He paused at seeing the old pair of boots sitting by the wardrobe, feeling grateful to Hange for considering him and both wanting to kick a hole in the wall because he knew they were not his. The hospital staff had actually cut his fucking boots away? 

Needless to say, it took everything in him to not shudder when putting the disgusting things on.

 _Still, she must have known I’d want to get the hell out of there as soon as I woke up._  
  
“Good ole’ Hange,” he mumbled to himself.

The hospital was small, located near the government offices; it was reserved for mostly military personnel and their families. He didn’t want that blonde coconut knowing he’d left, however, so he walked with a more casual gait, slipping past the front desk with little problem. Mostly it was hard to walk past the limp he felt crick his hip; despite the fact he was relatively unscathed from that night, his joints and bones felt stiff, recovery from the healing almost too much for his body to process.  
  
Call it whatever you wanted, Levi wasn’t so sure himself; it could have been the result of any number of things. Maybe it was from his adolescence, growing up in an outside trade and lodge settlement; or chalk it up to the years of being a common criminal in the Underground; fuck, it could even be accredited to his experience as a soldier, whatever it was, he didn’t believe a word that had left Saint Isaac’s mouth. He’d been looking for something, fishing.  
  
Levi wouldn’t be surprised if Fredrick Ballot was dead come morning.

\--

  
Levi waited, equipping himself with his omnidirectional gear after he was outside the hospital. He trusted Hange to take care of things, hoping his letter would be enough to put her at ease, even if, now that he thought about it, it hadn’t explained too much. Considering how worried she had been, he knew it wasn’t good enough. He would do his best to make it up to her later.  
  
It was about fifteen minutes later when Isaac left; Levi carefully watching him to assess how it was the man observed whether or not he was being followed.  
  
He was smart, Levi gave him that much credit. He kept to the ground, following far behind his visitor, watching as he cut through certain back streets and would stop at the corner of certain buildings or stall to pretend to smoke a rolled cigarette, waiting to see if anyone would trip up and pass him. 

Levi had never much cared to shake a tail that was following him, the art of losing someone lost upon him, he much preferred the confrontation that resulted in meeting the person head on. Fisticuffs.

They were a good distance away from the hospital now, coming up on the Valencia District and marketplace. Levi thought about that damn red scarf, gone as rapidly as it came, thinking it strange that he was back here again so quickly. Upon arriving in the district, Levi noticed the man a bit more relaxed than he had been throughout the entire walk here. He was in the home stretch, Levi figured, as he approached the side entrance of a run down building that looked to be studio residences. 

After that, “Isaac” all but ignored anything outside of getting to where he needed to be.  
  
Levi followed him to the top floor, stopping when he heard him knock on a door.  
  
“Armin! I was so worried. You’re ok.”

Levi stood, hidden behind the corner of the hallway wall. Still, listening.  
  
“Is Eren here?” The man’s voice sounded strained, melancholy.  
  
“Armin, it’s been almost twenty years. He’s missed you.”  
  
Twenty years? Levi pondered that, knowing the man Isaac— _Armin_ —couldn’t have been outside of his mid-twenties.

“Mikasa, he may miss me, but he has long since thought to trust me.”  
  
 _Armin. Eren. Mikasa.  
_  
Levi could hear the woman’s sigh, almost see her scold the man with the shake of her head.  
  
“You’ve grown your hair out again.”  
  
“Heh, yeah I know.”  
  
“Just like when you were little.”

There was a silence that followed her observation, lingering so much so that it left even Levi a bit uncomfortable. He questioned if the two of them felt the same.  
  
“Well, all that matters is you made it. Please, come inside.”  
  
 _Shit_.

“So you came from the military hospital—”  
  
That was the end of what Levi heard. The rest muffled fragments of conversation, some words easily picked out while the rest became inaccessible; he even dared to move closer. Coming this far for only a name? No, he was unconvinced of that. Fredrick Ballot. The Kyoto Gate. The Chesterfield estate. Valencia District. Red scarves.  
  
Levi looked around, his eyes filing every crack in the wall and stain on the carpet.  
  
“Ah—fuck, revolting.” The snark was more than evident as he felt himself shrink inward, trying anything to keep away from the filth of the space—doing anything to not catch something.

The place was a certified dump. The complex was located in the Valencia Marketplace, an older part of the inner city but typically well kept. Levi hadn’t the occasion or particular motivation to see the insides of any of the living quarters, having lived in the Corps’ base of operations since he became a Scout; there wasn’t much reason to look for a place of residence outside headquarters. He lived comfortably as a soldier. Seeing the place he was in now, he was sure the people who lived in it were either poor (practically unheard of in the enclosed district) or trying to hide; he was going with the latter.  
  
The door—room 203—was definitely closed. Levi knew he wouldn’t be hearing any more information, and so he continued on, passing over the numerous doors that surrounded the one “Isaac” had walked into.  
  
“Armin,” he said it low, out loud, just to feel the name and see if it suited. It did. It fit the man much better, Levi decided.  
  
Levi studied the floor, watching his feet imprint upon it as he walked forward, finding one exit stairwell near the opposite end of the hallway he’d entered from. He went up, gauging whether or not it would make a viable departure point or way of choking off enemies who tried to flee in the other direction. 

His hands felt behind his low back, he chamber where the gas exited cool to the touch. He could fly; this was an option open to him that he considered above everything else. The way Levi felt with the wind whipping his hair back, whistling through his ears … it was a feeling he couldn’t describe, having first felt it all those years ago in the cramped space of the Underground. Somehow, even there, they’d managed to find a way to soar.

The rooftop wasn’t much. It needed repurposing. Levi easily picked out weak spots throughout the entire top of the building, knowing it had to leak for the people who lived on the uppermost floor when it rained outside. He acknowledged the place was inconspicuous, which was strange. How the fuck hadn’t anyone bitched about this eyesore of an architectural plight?  
  
He thought back to when he and Hange had been in the market, the kid who had been giving the MP’s a hard time right there, ever present. He’d been sure Hange hadn’t seen him then, nor had she known the boy from the Chesterfield House was the same who’d bested them. The two had been wicked fast in the market; one glance back at his partner and the pair had disappeared, as if they had never been there in the first place. Levi saw the same speed in the den, hardly able to process the time in which he’d turned to stop Hange and when he’d been torn apart.

“You followed him here. Why?” 

Levi still felt the effect of the drugs lingering in his system, his body burned from that and where his wounds were still mending. How the fuck did this shit keep happening? Yet, even before, Levi been sorely unprepared when he’d been faced with a missing group of engineers, unable to pull himself to the top of the wall and somehow assess the situation because he’d given his equipment over to maintenance; he’d allowed himself to be taken by some asswipe who seemed to have a blood fetish and a penchant for stupidly loud music and whom he was sure he recognized; and now? He stood, simply, body rigid.

Nonetheless, he went to turn around, hands moving to draw the weapons he’d had the foresight to arm himself with before coming here.  
  
“You’ll be dead before you hit the ground.”  
  
That was enough to stall Levi’s advancement, stopping both his reach for his sword and his go to turn around. The voice was tired, _male_. He almost sounded indifferent. Familiar but with a very different drive of reason settled in its tone. Levi felt his breathing hitch, knowing the hunch he’d felt from the young blonde earlier had been something worthwhile in pursuing. 

Levi himself had been unable to figure out the full range of his suspicions of the trader, but he’d asked too many questions, was too curious—pushed just a smidge too far. To be honest, he saw the manipulation and calculation of Erwin Smith set behind those wide blue eyes; a conniving bite latched onto his words, sullying his seemingly genuine smile. He acted well, but the pause and cringe that he’d mistakenly paired with the name he’d given to Levi did nothing to relax the Captain’s conscious.

“Answer the question.” Hands forced Levi’s arms up and out, “Keep them up.”  
  
“You’re searching me?” Levi somehow had the absurdity to feel like he was being indulged.  
  
No answer.  
  
“I carry two great swords,” Levi tried for leeway. “Double handed claymore and a flammard.” He hadn’t given himself much time to pair himself with anything else.  
  
Levi recoiled at the aggressive force of the man’s touch, the sun blinding him from confirming who was in front of him.   
  
“You carry a flame blade?” It was an amused question, a disbelieving one. “You realize you could just as easily use a straight-edged sword?”  
  
If Levi wasn’t wearing his 3DMG he carried his weapons on his hips, always resting his hand at the hilt of the blade, ready for a quick draw; but now, he carried both the great swords on his back in want of ease of transportation. They had been his mothers. Even now, when he thought of her that’s what he saw—her long black hair, falling loosely over a beautifully detailed scabbard that held over her back.

“I do.” Levi spoke, cutting off his memory before there were too many of them. For another time.

Finally, the fellow stepped in front of him, allowing Levi to look at him. It didn’t bode well in the back of Levi’s mind, knowing nothing good could come from him being so familiar.  
  
“Answer my question.”  
  
Levi felt the heat of his healing wounds flare as if in reaction or response to his words, his chest constricting in kind as he certainly drowned in the beautiful sea of those now all too familiar blue-green eyes. They were a different color every time he saw him. It scared the soldier, making him unconsciously back away from the man.  
  
Levi found himself startled at being met with bared teeth, sharp points making his canines starkly stick out amongst the rest. Levi realized that he wasn’t angry, but insulted; the man was irritated that he was afraid of him.  
  
“You followed Armin here,” he repeated, more hardheartedly than before. “ _Why_?”  
  
 _So he wanted to talk, did he?_ Levi felt his eyes narrow, suddenly angry. He took back the step he’d fled and found the kid was bold enough to stand unwavering in his advance.  
  
Might as well.

“You.”  
  
He was different. The night before—wait, Hange had said he’d been out for two days, right?—the male was off his rocker. Levi had never seen someone so unaware of their behavior, someone so uncaring of their actions.  
  
Levi didn’t look away, watched how he was being observed, calculated, and measured.  
  
“Apparently you don’t trust him,” Levi pried further, divulging the small portion he’d been able to hear in the hallway while the two spoke to one another in the hall. “At least, that’s what he believes. I don’t think he’s wrong in assuming such a fact, however. But you miss him? That’s what _Mikasa_ said anyway.” The soldier was doing well to guarantee this asshole know he knew their names. For some reason, the untamed reaction that came from the woman’s name—the most emphasized response he’d yet seen or heard from him since even the market—told Levi she was very important to him. “So that makes you …”

He waited, dragged it out a bit, surveying in a strange sort of haughty satisfaction as the dread at mentioning the woman’s name gave way to undiluted temper, indignation rose to rage as the blue in those irises flared his hues to a yellow-emerald.  
  
“Eren.” Levi hadn't the need to shout his name, no, he simply mouthed it, only the brush of the declaration staining his lips. Earlier, Levi had wanted to see if the name Armin fit the searching man from the hospital, satisfied in how it left his mouth and the two matched up; here, though, he wanted to elicit a response as he tasted the identity of the unnamed creature in front of him, watch as it rolled off his tongue and his teeth scraped at the edge of each and every letter.

And when Levi saw it, the way the brunette’s gaze raked over him in desire and an almost primitive lust, it left little else to question in his mind. Either way, Levi said nothing. It hadn’t been the name he’d given him all those years ago, nonetheless he didn’t take it to heart, but he remembered how it felt saying it … how he’d softened to hear Levi call him it.  
  
“You have nothing here. I suggest you leave.” He didn’t make a move either way to encourage Levi to do so.  
  
“What did you do to me?” Levi couldn’t help the question, knew there would be no real answer in even trying to ask it.  
  
“Excuse me?”

“What are you fucking stupid, kid?” Levi spat his insult, taking pride in how he flinched. “It was you at the Chesterfield House. You killed a good fifty people there alone and I assume you think you killed me, right?”

There was an honest to God look of exasperation on the idiot’s face, plaguing even his bodily reaction as he crossed his arms in thought. “What?”  
  
 _The balls on this one_ , Levi thought, pressing his lips together in an effort to not pummel him.  
  
“Look at you,” Levi gave him a once over, those green eyes and their silence only egging him on, his speech dripping with disgust, “You come up here after I’m sure you caught me in the act of tailing your boy toy and watching me spy on him and your girlfriend chatting—about you, no less—and then catch me off guard, and you even had me a bit worried there for a minute.” He moved in, closing the space between them, leaning as he let the words leave his mouth, letting the tip of his nose graze over the bronze, sun-blazoned skin of the other. Levi watched Eren close his mouth, electing to breathe through the same nose he was now teasing. “When I think about it, mull it over a bit, I figure it’s you who should be more worried about finishing the shit you start.”  
  
Levi pushed him, slamming his ass onto the rotting rooftop surface.  
  
“It really seems you wanted me to talk earlier so why are you choosing to be so goddamned tightlipped? Sharing is caring and it goes both ways, mother fucker.” The dickcheese seemed in control today, the boy shook his head, getting his messy head of hair out of his line of vision.  
  
“Son of a bitch,” Eren muttered to himself, locking his jaw tightly enough he pooled blood in the corners of his mouth from biting down so hard. He turned away, trying to hide the fact that he was swallowing the sweet substance instead of spitting it out. That’s when he felt a well-worn boot connect with the left side of his face.  
  
“Speak!”  
  
The satisfied gasping for air was enough to immobilize Levi from going further, two swift kicks to the kids gut fitting enough to stop him. So he waited. At the Chesterfield House he—Eren—had been confident, knowing in his abilities and sureness shining through despite his ridiculous state, it was of no question to Levi that he would not hesitate to strike down his prey or any threat to his well being.  
  
Levi felt the prick of his ears at the sound of quiet footsteps approaching him from behind. Too many times had he been held at the mercy of others this past month, he wouldn’t dare let it happen again; thus, he didn’t stall in drawing his sword and meeting the perpetrator, catching her right at the neck with the sharp authority of his blade.

He saw her, the red scarf and stony expression, stone cold grey seeming to bore right through him. Her eye similar to his own, Levi wasn’t surprised to feel the point of her own weapon meeting the vein of his jugular.  
  
“Mikasa, I presume.” 

Now that seemed to piss her off, a piercing glare promptly setting the blame of Levi’s knowledge on the man probably still on his butt behind them.

“Mikasa, no!”  
  
She said nothing in response, tearing away from her companion and focusing back to the soldier.  
  
“Please, sister. Stop this.”  
  
An irritated sound rumbled at the base of Mikasa’s throat, choosing then to answer him with the push of her blade.  
  
Levi wondered if his ability to not show the pain the blade cutting into his skin made him feel further frustrated her; it didn’t do much for him, considering he returned the favor and she fought back in kind. She was expressionless, choosing only to disclose the anger she felt and that emotion did not seem to be reserved for Levi.  
  
“I wonder,” Levi figured now was the time to push his luck, “Does he know you sent your own personal clean up crew to take care of Fredrick Ballot?” 

There it was. Maybe she wasn’t as good at hiding her emotions as Levi had thought. His eyes glanced at Eren—now standing beside him with his hands up, a gesture of neutrality that wasn’t working considerably well for him—and easily knew the look of confused betrayal that marred his tanned complexion. Levi felt the give on his throat, hissing as he felt the cut begin to trail blood.  
  
“That’s what I thought,” he said, convinced he had his answer. He was sure these two, somehow, were responsible for the Kyoto Gate. Levi remembered the familiar turn of dread that flopped in his stomach at he sight of all the bodies that lay scattered in the dust of the trade route, how that same exact nauseating feeling rose within him when he was inside the den of the Chesterfield’s mansion.  
  
“You don’t know anything!” She growled, pulling her sword away and clashing it with the one at her neck, knocking it away with a strength that rivaled Levi’s own. He was fast though, easily gaining back the margin the woman had stolen, unsheathing his other sword in preparation to fight.  
  
The two were about to connect, sword to sword, when Eren jumped in front of Levi, arms held out, ready to shield him from her unforgiving blade, effectively stopping the two of them in their tracks.

“Stop it!” He screamed right back, matching her intensity with fearful accuracy, well exceeding her passion. “God damn it, Mikasa. God damn you!” 

Levi felt that same breadth of fear overtake him without permission as he saw Eren turn to look at him, his eyes looking at him from top to bottom, seeing if he was ok.

“Eren.” Her voice was firm but insistent, almost imploring. “How do you know?” Nothing followed, the wind was picking up her only answer, a nice breeze pelting the air and replacing the stagnated heat that had bubbled all throughout the day. Levi watched, however, as she shook her head, back and forth in undeniable disbelief, eyes harrowing the longer time passed. “No! We can’t let him go!” She was cut off; astonishment causing her mouth to open and close, as if someone—Eren—had slapped her across the face. 

Levi caught himself staring up at Eren, watching his face as he said nothing, but acting as if he were conveying the entire world. His mouth didn’t move, but there were nuisances creasing his forehead, crinkling his eyes, and coloring his cheeks as Mikasa openly carried on a one-sided conversation. As if the two of them could speak to each other without having to openly say anything at all—which, really, would have thrown Levi for much of a loop.

“He’s not to come back, you understand?”  
  
Levi, despite himself, felt his hand relax on the grip. The brunette was nodding his agreement, “Yes.”  
  
His voice was agreeable, good-natured almost. But what came next quickly squashed such description from Levi’s mind, the harshness rattling him it was so unexpected.

“ _We_ are going to have a conversation when I get back.” The words crawled up Levi’s spine, talons ripping into his skin and advancing in entirely the wrong way. It was a tone that contradicted itself, one practically incapacitated by venom and lingering anger, but also oddly influenced by laden desire; Levi heard the way Eren’s breathing labored, watched his arms lax as he became more confident that she wouldn’t act against the soldier.  
  
“He’s dead if I see him again. Legion or no.”  
  
“Legion?”  
  
The accumulation of strange wasn’t lost upon Levi. “Legion” hadn’t been a name used to seriously reference the Scouts in years. It was reserved for the first of their kind, their inception, if you will. Ironically, there was the Scouting Legion Veteran Memorial Wall outside of the central government’s capitol. In any case, there had been more than one circumstance that had seen Levi and Hange laughing their asses off about the prospect of their name ending up there, at the top with the highest-most ranked officers, their entire lives lived trying to break free of walls only to end up immortalized on one. It sickened him, but it was still easily used as drunken-fueled humor.  
  
“You going to stand around all day?” 

The girl was gone.  
  
“Where’s home?”  
  
Levi enclosed his swords, turning around to begin walking away from him.  
  
“No.” He stopped, despite his-fucking-self, and held up a hand to make the idiot stop. “You aren’t walking me back like I’m some crying stood-up prom date.”  
  
Of course he didn’t listen, meeting Levi side-by-side.

“I don’t trust her to not come back.”

“For family, you seem awfully hateful towards one another.” Levi guessed there was nothing particularly abnormal about such a thing. He’d had to make his own family for the longest time, his actual kin never much accounting for anything  
  
“We’ve been together for a long time. It becomes difficult.”  
  
From then on, Levi didn’t protest the company; he wasn’t surprised that Eren was able to follow him off the top of his building due to having his own mobility gear. He didn’t even try and ask where it had come from.  
  
Instead, he endeavored to find out more, leading him through the most roundabout way back to headquarters. If Levi was lucky, he might be able to stretch a ten-minute walk another five minutes. 

“Why do you look exactly the same?”  
  
No answer. Typical. Expected.  
  
“What did you mean by asking what I did to you?”  
  
Levi faltered a bit, slowing down and remembering the question he’d asked himself in the hospital. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Best to ignore it. If he didn’t want to answer Levi’s questions, he sure as hell wasn’t going to answer his. “You realize where I’m going, right? If you get there with me, I will take you in. You deserve as much.”  
  
“You’ll let me go.”  
  
“You must think I’m a complicated man.”

“How does that make you complicated? Letting me go?”  
  
Levi laughed, “Because it would certainly make things more interesting.” 

“Mm.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, looking down at the ground with a recalling smile. “Armin is a … old friend. If he is here, then you can be assured that Ballot is more than likely already dead.” 

Levi let out a heavy sigh, not feeling anything in way of grief. Fredrick Ballot had been nothing but a parasite in his life, leeching off of mass cleanup jobs and illegal trade that no one ever had the fortitude to challenge. The Collector had had too many connections, too many people who relied on him for the product they could not otherwise get their hands on in this region; the man who screwed with Ballot was already dead.  
  
“I figured.”

Levi kept his line of sight in front of him, having already tried to debunk whatever was happening to trudge up the bullshit in his mind. This man, kid— _whatever_ he was—was an entirely different person. Calm, collected.  
  
“I—” At the sound of his voice, Levi did choose to look at him, seeing as his hands fled his pockets and felt through his hair in apprehension. “I thought I’d killed you.” His voice was small, as if he was unsure to say anything at all. “When I get like that I have no idea what I’m doing. I can’t help myself. And I upset Mikasa—” He stopped, a pained look overcoming him, so much so that his now free hands felt his chest, where his heart was. Levi found that to be interesting, figuring that if the woman elicited such an unconscious reaction from him that she meant more than even he’d originally considered. The two of them were loyal to each other, probably to a fault.  
  
 _What are you_? was the question at the tip of Levi’s tongue, the one he most wanted answered. Instead, “Why are you telling me this?”  
  
“Consider it a courtesy. I owe you as much.” 

“Owe me, huh?”

“Yes.”  
  
Shit, he actually looked like he was struggling over what he was about to say, considering whether or not to take that leap.

“Don’t back down now, kid.”  
  
He didn’t seem to like being called as such, indicated by the irritated twitch of his lip. Levi thought if he kept watching him for long enough, he would continue to witness small indicators of Eren keeping himself under control. From what it looked like the reservation just about damn near killed him. Things to remember.  
  
“Will you come after us?”  
  
Levi halted at the question, knowing he was close to where the two would part, heading in different directions. He didn’t want to take the chance of thinking too long and never seeing him again.

“You don’t think you’ve given me enough reason to?”

Eren bit his lip, considering that.  
  
“It isn’t like they were a huge loss to society.”  
  
Levi turned his body, waiting a moment to see if he had the nerve to face him on his own, and when he didn’t, he gripped Eren’s shoulder and _made_ him look him in the eye.  
  
“You don’t get to decide that. That isn’t your decision to make!”

Why did this make Levi angry? He wasn’t exactly sure he’d thought it over, his nails now gripping the biceps of the infuriating fucker he found himself pinning up against the wall.

Eren’s face changed, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Levi as if he were something small, insignificant, cowardly. “So you’ve never made the same decision?” His voice was eerily unruffled, letting Levi hold him in place almost as if it were out of sheer politeness.

“What?”  
  
“I remember you, you know?” He clicked his tongue, a smile perverting his features. “You’ve grown up, but I remember what you look like painted in red.”

There it was, Levi saw it then, the malicious glint and animalistic authority he commanded. It was always there, just at the brink of releasing and seeping into everything that Eren was and whatever stood in his path.

“Let go of me.” He commanded this, making no real effort to break free, instead giving Levi the chance to release him from the wall he’d backed him into. “It isn’t like either one of us are willing to answer any of the questions we have for one another, so back the fuck up off of me.”  
  
Levi was made to break his hold of Eren, now finding he was the one being kicked to the ground. A painfully exacted kick to his shin had his knee cracked on the ground, a fist landing him on his back.  
  
“You know, it surprised me. Seeing you in the marketplace that day.” His voice was different, somehow deeper, an instinctive sort of burden weighing down each word that he spoke. “I always thought you’d be Underground trash for the rest of your life.” 

Levi’s head hit the hard stone path of the alley, bouncing before fingers grabbed his hair as the man straddled him from above, smacking his skull in the hard ground two more times before bringing his face closer to his own.  
  
“Though I can say I am glad I didn’t kill you, it is kind of a letdown you didn’t pin me against that wall to fuck me like you did the last time.”  
  
The man was built like he was made of a ton of bricks, his appearance broad and obviously fit, but easily misleading in that Levi couldn’t shake his weight. He was almost too strong, unparalleled in anyone or anything Levi had ever faced—it was as if he could keep going no matter the obstacle that lay in his way, that he could scratch and pursue it forever, never dying or tiring as he continued clawing towards his goal. It was a comparison Levi only reserved for the Aberrant, their bodies always reaching, always claiming, _always_ going. A human could only run so far before they ran out of breath, their assailant still approaching them from behind, never tiring of reaching their goal. So when he felt his head connect with the fucking ground once again, he wasn’t completely taken aback by the black spotting his vision, surprised that he had somehow managed to hold onto consciousness this long.  
  
“Or wait, I guess it was me that fucked you, wasn’t it?”  
  
Levi was pretty sure that was a punch, the metallic taste in his mouth seeming to correlate his questioning as fact. 

“You still smell just as good,” Eren whispered. Licking Levi’s jawline, trailing up, up, up until he enveloped his earlobe in his mouth, lightly sucking until he elicited a small whimper from the man beneath him. He gripped his chin, pulling the half-dazed man to his lips and letting the whine fill him; he hardly minded that Levi more than likely had no idea what was happening. He didn’t beg for entrance, instead just pushing his tongue past, opening up his closed lips and savoring both the inside of his mouth and the blood on his teeth. “How did you make it up here anyway?” He popped off another insult, licking his lips and swallowing the man’s taste. “Mmm,” he giggled—actually giggled—at the flavor. “God, you taste as good, too.”

Levi felt Eren walk two fingers down his chest, undoing the button of his pants. 

“I wonder,” he teased, grinding his already hard cock down on the Corps member, “if I kept going, would it take much for you to let me have you right here?”  
  
“Eren, no!”  
  
Levi heard Mikasa’s voice reverberate, bouncing off between the building’s exteriors that surrounded them. Looks like Eren had been right to not believe she wouldn’t follow; it seemed between the two of them, he was the one to worry about. Hair-trigger temper and all that.  
  
Eren didn’t move at the sound of her voice, however, and kept his attention on the man beneath him. She was running, still a little too far away to stop it as he palmed Levi through his pants. 

He leaned over, once again speaking in Levi’s ear, “I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

For the second time in almost as many days, Levi’s world plunged into darkness, the feel of an amused smile ghosting over the outer shell of his ear.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Eren is a bit ... crazy.


End file.
